


The Act Of Admitting We Are Alike, You And I

by kelizabethr



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 69,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelizabethr/pseuds/kelizabethr
Summary: Astrid Hofferson had been hearing of 'The Dragon Masters' exploits for some time now, and while they always left Astrid enraptured with the idea of this 'Master', they never seemed to be of any concern to Viggo. Until they are, that is.Astrid has been working for Viggo for as long as she can remember, gaining him any information he should desire by wooing certain 'targets' as Viggo calls them. For several years, his main focus regarding her missions has been information about the dragon hunting artifact he believes is his by right, and his desire to possess it lands Astrid on an island called 'Dragon's Edge' with a particular target whose demise, Viggo assures her, will land them their greatest success yet.
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Comments: 59
Kudos: 72





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is the prologue of my first multi-chaptered piece!  
> I must admit I am quite nervous to post this when it's not done, but here we are.  
> So without further adieu, enjoy!

_“I am like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, she thought,_

_and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside.”_

_-Shirley Jackson_

* * *

Few things made their way outside one’s archipelago.

Sure, gossiping was one of the Viking’s greatest pastimes but there was a hierarchy within these waters. Some rumors were contained to an island, never interesting enough to make a lasting impression on the minds of those coming and going. Other rumors held a more lasting effect on travelers’ minds and stories would spread from one island to its allies in trade and combat. The greater story one could hear- or at least imagine up- the greater distance it had. There had only been word of one rumor that sailed outside of its set archipelago in the last couple decades or so- its rarity so great: the disappearance of Berk’s Chieftess.

Vikings had known of the calamity dragons could reign down on the human world for years, but the dragons were simply a part of that world. An annoyance that Vikings handled with stubborn pride for countless years and would continue to handle with stubborn pride until no dragon dared graced the sky. Or so was believed until the Chieftess of Berk was suddenly gone, her body never found. The rumor shook the world as everyone knew it and birthed an idea nobody had dared to consider: that perhaps the dragons would wipe out the Vikings before they could honor the dragons with the same fate. It was one thing to hear of a family losing a warrior- there was no greater honor- but the Chieftess was declared a woman of great dignity, having a laugh that could spark even the deadest heart and an arm that could level armies, and her disappearance rattled even the stoutest of Vikings, rage toward the dragons emerging stronger than it had in years. However not much else ever reached very far across the waters.

Or so it was until the Dragon Master emerged. 

Astrid had never seen the Dragon Master- the title seeming slightly exaggerated in her cynical opinion- but his exploits reached to the very edge of the known world until it tipped over the edge to grace the ears of Hel.

The first report of his ‘mastery’ had tickled her interest when she was at The Northern Markets. Her position there was only temporary, but it proved to hold more amusement than she had originally expected. So as she perched on a large stack of boxes, sharpening her axe to show that while she was not to be feared by the malnutritioned traders that docked at the market she wasn’t to be provoked either, she turned her ears into a particular scuffle occurring between Thuggory and Trader Leo.

It was obvious that Trader Leo, red from frustration, was being mocked-any mercy having long abandoned the discussion-for his recounting of the sight of Berk. Thuggory continued to laugh heartily, smacking his accomplice’s arm with the back of his hand to achieve his engagement, as Trader Leo attempted to defend himself again.

“I speak the truth! I very nearly didn’t dock when I saw it! Berk was _swarming_ with the beasts yet not a single warrior defended their Great Hall! The beasts were...welcomed or something!”

“Berk?” Thuggory had sneered, elbowing his accomplice again, “You know, _old man_ , you probably could have had us sold on your _lie_ if you had chosen anywhere but Berk. Good folk tale, Leo, but keep yourself to selling trinkets.”

Astrid had kept to herself through the interaction, watching silently as Thuggory strutted off with another laugh and Trader Leo, bent shakily over to pick up the horn Thuggory had carelessly knocked over, grumbled under his breath.

Then more traders began to dock...and the stories began to grow beyond dragons just being ‘welcomed’.

Trader followed trader, each one telling a greater development to ‘the wonders of Berk’ the more trade the island engaged with.

Her interest most commonly laid with the Trader that held the greatest popularity amongst the Hunters’ ranks and so she would always choose somewhere to perch near Trader Johann, his stories typically the most coveted despite the unnecessary ramble he would add to lengthen every story beyond what any sane human would desire.

All the same, it couldn’t be denied that Johann was good at his job. As such, he reigned a favourite on the shores of Berk and was always encouraged by Stoick the Vast to enjoy the majesty of the island and fill himself with the equally majestic spoils-a Berkian feast never failing to amaze-so he had seen more of the islands secrets than any of the other traders combined.

Apart from the practical, he also embraced the concept of suspense with as graceful a flourish as he could muster by only being situated at The Northern Markets every few months or so, otherwise living on the sea. Believing that the wind called him to every shore in the archipelago to have as diverse a collection of sellable goods as could be dreamed of by a merchant, he never stayed very long in one place and thus the stories had their time to seep deep into the Hunters’ ranks before he presented the next succeeding development.

He had captured the Hunters’ interest from the beginning, paralyzing them with wonder with an effectiveness that challenged the Flightmare itself, but his stories held a tame beginning by Astrid’s account.

While the Hunters were left in a state of shock, only able to murmur amongst themselves, at the idea of Johann roaming Berk alongside dragons (Johann explaining in detail how each Berkian-from the greatest warrior to the smallest child-had evolved to obtain a sense of respect for the mighty beasts), Astrid had listened quietly. While Johann’s story held twists and turns that thrilled the Hunters, he offered nothing but a straight course for her. She had heard of Vikings and dragons living in harmony together before, finding a symbiotic relationship with one another where each had their separate needs met.

Her interest was piqued, however, when Johann began describing the ownership, as if the dragons were somehow becoming pets of the Berkian people, and explained that even _children_ were allowed and encouraged to find a dragon to call their own. She had only heard of humans and dragons finding peace with one another, yet a certain level of distance was still kept. While a symbiotic relationship could be formed with the beasts, it wasn’t a relationship built on trust. In equal measure, Astrid wondered how living _that_ closely with the feral beasts could possibly qualify to be a five-star rating for comfort and yet she supposed that Berk’s living conditions weren’t all that pleasant to begin with, or at least they weren’t when she visited it nearly twelve years ago now.

Then came the saddles.

She had to admit, even she stopped carving a pattern into the box beneath her to watch Trader Johann, his face scrunched and wrinkles peppered across his complexion as he deepened his description.

Mogadon interrupted suddenly.

“Aye, but ye can’t really ride them dragons, can ye?”

She flashed an annoyed gaze at Mogadon-known for opening his mouth at the most inopportune times-and imagined flicking at rock at the back of his head just for interrupting, but Johann seemed to thrive off the question, leaning forward on the small stool he was seated on and placing his fingertips firmly on the crate in front of him.

“The Dragon Master can,” he whispered mysteriously, the name slipping off his tongue in a way that stirred Astrid’s stomach, “He was the first to ever mount one of the great beasts, though not any beast! Indeed not, my dear masters! He has tamed-some may even say _befriended_ -the rarest, most intelligent, most _feared_ beast known to Vikings…”

“A Gronkle?” asked a Hunter shakily and Astrid squinted at him, unsure whether she was annoyed with him or felt pity toward his ignorance. Several moments of silence reigned supreme, everyone either stunned at the Hunters stupidity or clinging desperately to the suspense that hung around Johann like a well-worn cloak, until Johann’s voice pierced the silence as a deep growl.

“ _A Night Fury…_ ”

The name made her body seize up, her hand trembling as she gripped her whetstone tighter and threw her gaze to the darkening skies. Such a curse was rarely spoken among even the bravest Hunters, as was evident when Johann’s audience shifted uncomfortably, each taking their own turn to see if lightning were to reign down on them from above.

One Hunter dared to speak, gripping his mace firmly, and she looked back to the gathered crowd around Johann.

“Can’t-can’t be. That drag-dragon is a curse, sent from Hel herself.”

“Aye, ‘twas my belief too!” continued Trader Johann, waggling his finger in acknowledgement of the Hunter’s statement before dipping his hand in his chest pocket, his eyebrows rising and falling with the same mischief as the sea, “Under that firm belief I was until I saw the beast with my own eyes, so I kept myself true to the policy first declared by Merchant Ofederus! ‘If one should dare speak of the unbelievable, that same man ought to display proof of the unbelievable, simply so that it may be believed!’ So proof I have, my most attentive masters,”

Withdrawing his hand from his pocket, Johann placed his hand flat on the crate before him before raising his hand dramatically to reveal a single scale, so dark it created an illusion of an endless void descending into the crate, and Astrid found her eyes glued to it in horror even when she begged them away. 

“Oh, _Thor_ Almighty!” shrieked one of the Hunters, swinging his hands uselessly in fear as one might swat away a gnat before Johann snatched it up again, tucking it deep into his pocket as if he feared that someone may try and nab his prized possession.

Like a spell, Astrid suddenly found her eyes free again and she blinked, trying to grasp her surroundings as her heart beat pounded in her ears.

She hated to admit it, but the idea of a man wielding so much power that he could tame a Night Fury was a frightening thought. So she simply declared it _not_ to be. That was a viable solution, right?

“No one can ride a Night Fury,” she declared, ignoring the waver that appeared in her voice, and attempted to grip her axe threateningly as if she was challenging an opponent to defy her will.

“Well, I shan’t argue, my dear Miss Astrid,” laughed Johann, tucking his ringed hands into himself as if he expected they would miraculously protect him and shuffling his feet in the dirt, “I wouldn’t want the wrath of you upon me anymore than the Dragon Master’s Night Fury. It is as the Great Newranthren, Count of Veracity once said: ‘I may only tell my own truths, as best as I may.’”

Losing interest, the Hunters quickly disbanded as Johann busied himself by tending to his shop, seemingly unbothered by Astrid’s doubt-her irreverent incredulity-that anything he stated was true.

The next day he was gone as fast as he had come, many weeks passing in boredom before he was seen again, obviously tired from a long and vigorous journey on the untamed seas, but he was thrilled when he found a small gathering forming around him prior to him setting up his humble shop.

All the same, he conceded and pulled up a small and unstable stool, squatting down with a pained grunt and beckoning his listeners closer to draw them into his tale. Astrid remained disinterested, despite tuning her ear in to hear, and smirked when a Hunter impatiently prodded Johann on.

“What of Berk? Does the village even still stand in the wake of this so-called Era of Peace Among The Beasts? Tell us!”

Johann waved his hand to pipe the Hunter down, only a second of anger flashing behind his eyes before he smiled at his congregation.

He wove a beautiful tapestry for the Hunters as he spoke of perches upon which the dragons could rest their wings and stables where they could indulge themselves with food, drink, and cozy holes in which they could sleep and mate. Astrid kept to herself, impressed by Berk’s efforts but not entirely shocked. Johann only described the basic necessities that would be required to care for animals of a dragon’s size. However, he drew her gaze once more as he droned on.

“Those mighty Berkians have passed through an entire moon cycle, now utilizing their old dragon killing arena as a dragon training academy,”

“What’s a dragon training academy?”

Astrid couldn’t help but wonder the same, despite the name seeming obvious, and eyed Johann carefully, her eyes pausing when they reached the pocket on his chest as she thought again of the cursed scale in his possession.

“I must admit that-and I say this with a degree of humiliation-I could not say, Master Frigo,” murmured Trader Johann sheepishly before using the mystery to his advantage by swirling his hands purposefully before him as if painting the arena in his mind's eye, “For not even I, having earned deep respect from the Berkians, was allowed behind its gates. I can however describe the sign above its entrance-the sight of it stopping me in my tracks. The sign is large and bears a single Night Fury, curled gracefully in on itself while its one tail fin burns as red as a thousand suns.”

Astrid leaned forward onto her elbows, trying to imagine the image before her mind attempted to swirl this _Dragon Master_ into existence.

A Hunter’s voice interrupted her fantasy, her mind unable to provide eyes to this nameless force Johann boasted so fondly of, and she looked back toward Johann’s small crowd.

“Oy, but Night Furies ain’t red, is they?”

The Hunter leaned in closer to Johann in expectation of his answer, but Johann only released a melodious laugh, the Hunter flushing with embarrassment.

“Oh, indeed they are not! They are black as a moonless night itself, hence the name, however the Dragon Master rides his Night Fury with a manmade tail fin.”

Astrid allowed herself to imagine the Dragon Master again, but this time she attempted to pair him with his beast of choice, mentally adding a red tail fin. Johann continued.

“The Dragon Master’s story is one of deep irony for it was he who originally devastated the beast by making it earth-bound. Yes, it was the Dragon Master who ripped the mighty beast from the sky and permanently damaged its tail, leaving the dragon helpless to the Master’s whims. Yet instead of killing the beast, he instead trained it, giving it the opportunity to taste the sun-blessed clouds again.”

The crowd leaned closer, enraptured with the tale, and Astrid found herself holding her breath.

“Yes, my masters. Creating a device that allowed him to control the beast’s tail fin, the Dragon Master dared to train lightning and death itself, now spending each day caressing the sun and tasting the clouds. Only the Dragon Master can fly with such precision and grace because, though separate, the two are like one beast. They think together. Breathe together. _Strike together_ . Much like the armies of Dungdoon, they sweep across land and sea, even nature forced to part for them. _That_ is the purpose of the Dragon Master’s training academy, challenging him and his fellow riders to further refine their skill. Indeed, he is a boy of-”

“ _Boy?_ ” interrupted one of the Hunters rudely before erupting into laughter, earning awkward chuckles from those around him, “No mere _boy_ could train a Night Fury, tail or no tail. I have heard that the Dragon Master is a mighty warrior, stocky and boldly facing death as if Helheim itself were only a myth.”

A few Hunters agreed, murmuring their disagreement with Johann’s description, and Johann’s mouth turned up at the edges in amusement as he listened. Astrid’s interrupted fantasy snarled in annoyance and she spoke, raising her knee up to get more comfortable.

“Odin above, let the man speak!”

She chastened the crowd, but kept her eyes locked on Johann’s awkwardly stooped form as he bowed in grateful acknowledgement.

“I am sure Hunters as yourselves have heard many things, travelling the seas as you so often do, and I will admit that many things have been told. All the same, I can definitely assure you that the Dragon Master was only fifteen years of age when he trained his first dragon and not much younger than Astrid herself now,”

The Hunters all spared a moment to stare at her and her brow furrowed, her mind sparked with intrigue. She was only seventeen years old-though she felt so much older than it-and the idea of the Dragon Master matching her in youth and agility filled her stomach with warmth and excitement that made her want to crack a girlish smile. She resisted the desire as Johann drew the Hunters attention back towards him.

“Of course, let it be understood that his power comes not from brawn or might or even any other attribute that we may deem acceptable of the Masters of Vikings past. No, his power follows a more eccentric path.”

Astrid had to smirk at the idea of Johann finding himself in a position to deem anyone _else_ eccentric when he was left to peer at himself in the mirror, his mustache alone a sign of eccentricity.

“His power emanates from his brain-his wit, his strategic maneuvers, his acuity! He far surpasses any Viking yet known and has become the pride of his house. He is clever, oh indeed, he is,”

Astrid raised a single eyebrow, wondering if this Dragon Master was aware of the blossoming obsession Johann had with him, before Johann lightened his voice, releasing the spell of suspense he held over the Hunters.

“Yet I can say that he is only sixteen or seventeen,” chuckled Johann before standing with another grunt, letting his back crack before continuing, “And much like the unassuming heir to the throne of Talgathaba once said, ‘Ah, I best be setting up my humble shop! These goods won’t find homes all by themselves, you know!’”

The Hunters murmured amongst themselves some more, still situated near Johann but he paid them no mind, pleasing himself by quietly whistling an old Viking tune to himself as he worked, placing his collected goods out for display until all the Hunters had abandoned him. All Hunters apart from Astrid.

She hopped down gently from her perch and tossed her braid over her shoulder, casually strutting over to Johann’s stand. Seeing her approach, he brightened, clasping his hands together and leaning forward on the small box he used as a kind of pulpit.

“Ah, Miss Astrid! Do you seek something specific from me? For although I may not currently have it, I can certainly strive to obtain it for a beautiful woman such as yourself!” he flattered, watching her drag her finger through the dust that lined his stand, his hope that flattery may land him a sale embarrassingly obvious.

“Do you sell things to this...Dragon Master?”

She didn’t waste time reciprocating any flattery, instead heading straight for her goal.

“I am afraid I cannot disclose the services I provide to other customers,” began Johann, but she let her anger rise to her eyes, staring him down, and he grinned sheepishly, “Then again, I suppose some rules are made to be broken!”

She smiled sweetly at Johann’s compliance, lowering her axe the more he spoke.

“I do indeed sell him some...commodities,”

“Like?”

“Well, I am certain none would suit your interests,” Johann laughed before recognizing the glare she flashed him again and he clasped his hands together. For reasons unknown to her, she was desperate for any information she could possibly scrounge up regarding the Dragon Master and she was determined to get it. “Mostly ink, to be honest. I strive to get him the best since his left-handedness often leaves his paper smudged and his hand black. Apart from that, he sometimes requests specific parts since he appears to be quite the inventor.”

Her stomach swirled again though this time raised more annoyance than anything else, so she scrunched her face in displeasure at Johann.

“What _can’t_ this Dragon Master do?” she sneered, but Johann just laughed, tipping his head back heartily.

“From what I’ve heard, not much, my fair lady, except for perhaps landing himself a woman as...unblemished as yourself with whom to mate?”

Astrid scrunched her face again, feigning disgust despite the bubbling warmth in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Johann’s implications, and flipped a coin onto the table in front of the old merchant, watching the tarnished copper as it twirled on the wood melodiously.

“For the information, friend,” she murmured gratefully, turning away from Johann and willing the warmth in her stomach to die down, the Dragon Master haunting her shadow.

Astrid only remained at the Northern Markets for another three months after her interaction with Johann and she hadn’t seen him since, the market reaching a rut in regards to business once the winter months set in and trade reached its natural lull. So Ryker, having crudely explained that she was desired for more ‘feminine tasks’ (as if her current task didn’t require the tasteful presence of a woman), removed her from her post to be reunited with Viggo again. 

He granted her the benefit of keeping her busy, never leaving her with one of his ‘targets’ for very long, but she wasn’t particularly thrilled upon learning she was trapped on the sea with the brothers.

So the icy winter that kept her nose red and her limbs stiff melted into a brighter spring that let her taste the salty sea on her lips and the maternal touch of the wind lick at her hair before the wind abandoned her once more to fade into another bitter winter, Astrid performing the same tasks to bend soft minds and pry wanted information out of deep pockets, handing Viggo his desires on silver platters as he slowly gained more control of the sea, his power flourishing the more Astrid did the work to gain that power for him. 

And it was in this way that the days passed, the ocean rocking Astrid to sleep at night, and Ryker’s gruff voice cursing the first moments in which she awoke, until Astrid nearly forgot of the Dragon Master entirely, no sight nor sound of him until rumors of the his quarrels with Dagur the Deranged arose from the depths of the ocean, creeping over the edge of the boat to fester fear in the Dragon Hunters minds.

“The men have been hearing...rumors,”

Astrid, perched on a crate and resting her chin in her hands, looked away from the never ending sea that was on either side of the ship to glance at Ryker when he addressed Viggo boldly, gripping his sword as a kind of security measure.

Their dynamic never escaped Astrid’s notice and it fascinated her that while Ryker held so much weight over his younger brother, Viggo continued to appear the brawnier of the two just in the confident way he held himself. Viggo never failed to make his older brother bow to him, Ryker doing so begrudgingly.

“The men hear many rumors,” scoffed Viggo, continuing to map their course with little attention given to Ryker’s concern, “Why just last week they were convinced the ship was being haunted by an ancient goddess of the sea, simply because they saw a rock formation that, when looked at from the right angle, appeared to display a woman’s breasts. The pitiful superstitions of the men are of no concern to me,”

Astrid smirked a little when Ryker seemed to eye Viggo’s bent neck, as if wondering if he could commit a mutiny right then and there. Astrid almost wished it, if not for fear that Ryker would toss her corpse overboard as well, his disapproval toward Viggo using Astrid for his own gains never something Ryker hid.

“There is a word of a Dragon Master hidden within the Barbaric archipelago.” Ryker gave another attempt to arouse the interest of his brother. “Word is this _Dragon Master_ owns a Night Fury. Oy, that hide must pay a _pretty price_ on the market nowadays. I’d heard the demon from Hel had gone extinct,”

Viggo looked up from his map to lay a disappointed eye on his brother, his hands instinctively clasping behind his back like they always did when he felt superior.

“I will remind you-and all the men who fall under my command-that the only goal we currently have is finding our familial _heirloom_ , brother. The cylindrical artifact that has long evaded me is our right as Dragon Hunters,”

Astrid continued to listen to the scolding Viggo was giving Ryker, the anger screaming to be let out from behind Ryker’s eyes always enjoyable to see, and rubbed at her reddened nose.

“Aye, I was just thinking,”

“ _Yes_ , but we decided that we’d leave such mental exercises to me, hmm? Thinking has never been your strong suit,”

Ryker released a growl, the typical signal that the discussion had come to an end, and Astrid yawned, disappointed that their fights always ended up being boring and petty, their brotherhood never evolving past arguments between children.

“Dagur the Deranged, one of our newest allies in commerce and battle, has supposedly been imprisoned by this _Dragon Master_ ,” sneered Ryker, the insincerity pouring from his words impressing Astrid, his verbal attacks often lacking the force his physical ones had, “Would hate to see you befall a similar fate, _brother_ ,”

“Indeed, you shall not!” laughed Viggo, turning away from his map to stride confidently toward where Astrid sat, her back straightening to attention for Viggo to notice when he drew close to place a rough hand on her head, “For Astrid is going to get me what I want, and once I have it... _I will be Dragon Master_ . Not some... _nobody_ from the Hooligan tribe. All shall soon burn, brother, and I will see to it that you get your Night Fury prize,”

Ryker seemed to consider the offer, resting his hand on his hip, before nodding stiffly and strutting off, shoving a Hunter out of his way when the man had unknowingly stumbled into his path, leaving Astrid alone with Viggo.

Giving her hair another pet, Viggo grabbed her chin to tilt her face up to him, the sun making her eyes tear up when it was right behind his head, distorting the edge of his face with a bright light, but his eyes were still visible.

She wished they weren’t, his eyes remaining her least favourite thing about him, and she wasn't fond of looking into them. They were dark brown, typically a thrilling color in the right light, but Viggo had somehow managed to make his void of any life-she disliked their consistency, their absence of any swirls, and she found herself wishing they would show a spark, any spark at all, much as her father’s green eyes had done. It was her only memory of him, his soul having long sailed through the gates of Valhalla, and since then Viggo had taken on the burden of being a parental figure for her. 

She both hated and loved him, the complexity of their relationship not even fully understood by Astrid. She both aimed to please him and plotted his personal demise; she both fought to be released from his grasp and ran to him as the only kind of home she had ever known.

As such, she enjoyed being away from his piercing gaze, often finding comfort in tiny nooks around the ship, but would do his bidding without hesitation, rushing to complete it efficiently and with excellence in the hopes it would gain her some praise.

It rarely did.

Still searching for information on the artifact of Viggo’s desires, Astrid had wisped into the homes of several targets over the length of several weeks before she finally squeezed a location out of one of them, reporting back to Viggo proudly that the item could be found on an ancient ship, The Reaper, that was tucked deep in the Barbaric Fog Banks. 

However, it bore bad news for Astrid when, risking the perils that were the Barbaric Fog Banks, Viggo leaned over the side to see nothing left of The Reaper but its stern jutting out from the water, its sail barely visible above the water line but enough to signal that the ship they had spent weeks headed toward had already been destroyed.

Grabbing Astrid’s hair roughly, Viggo had yanked her to the edge of the ship to watch as several Hunters lost their lives to the large eels that inhabited the water in attempts to swim to the ship fast enough to find the heirloom Viggo so desired, hissing in her ear that she was to watch the men who could have lived had she moved quicker among her targets. He blamed her when it grew increasingly obvious someone else had beaten them to the ship’s secrets. 

Ryker was the only one who managed to come close to succeeding, decapitating an eel when he rose out of the water with a gasp.

“It’s not there,” he gasped, climbing onto the ship and glaring at Viggo, “I searched as long as I could hold my breath for and-”

“Then get back down there and search _again!_ ”

Several Hunters jumped when Viggo’s voice rose, Astrid releasing a cry when he threw her aimlessly to the side.

“It’s not _there_ , Viggo,” quipped Ryker, “Somebody was on that cursed ship. Somebody who _wasn’t_ a Hunter because every bloody booby trap was activated. It’s _gone_ ,”

Viggo released a curse to the sky, looking to Astrid with fire in his eyes before he quenched his anger and calmly breathed in and out, his eyes shut in his attempts to maintain composure.

“Fine, _fine_ ,” hissed Viggo, “Then Astrid is going to find me the wretch who deemed themselves worthy to remove it from its place of safe-keeping,”

Viggo looked at Astrid coldly and she tried to keep her eyes from showing her fear, the screams of the Hunters who lost their lives still echoing in her ears, but her scalp hurt for days afterwards.

However, much as it always was, Viggo eventually forgave her with a gentle hush and pet of her hair, warning her that he would not be so gracious the next time she failed him, and she was primed all over again when Viggo found a new target to aid in his search for the artifact, instructing her to report back to him with any information regarding who may currently have it in safe-keeping.

And so several more months passed with a soundless wind, the Dragon Master and his Night Fury fading into folklore once again, his existence no concern to Viggo, despite increasing rumors, when Viggo became consumed with finding what he deemed rightfully his.

That is, until Astrid sniffed out a report none of them were expecting.

“Lost to sea,”

“I beg your pardon?”

Viggo’s response was calm, but Ryker stiffened up at Astrid’s declaration, his gaze flashing between Astrid and Viggo.

“Krakhorn was lost to sea not two days ago, another Hunter from his ship saying something about an...ambush?”

Viggo seemed to consider Astrid’s words carefully, his eye twitching as he scanned the wall to his left thoughtfully.

“What else did you hear of this ambush?” asked Ryker gruffly, stepping forward threateningly and Astrid glared, far less afraid of him than Viggo.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “He said something about how they came out of nowhere-”

“ _Who_ came out of nowhere?”

“These humans riding dragons!” exclaimed Astrid annoyedly, throwing her arms up and rolling her eyes, “I guess they were forced to abandon their ships somewhere to the north of Haradurnin Peak! Only a select few managed to make it to shore and even less found a way off the barren rock. I guess these... _riders_ ...attacked them and set the dragons they were taking to Tredjargen loose. What does it matter? What matters to _me_ is finding what Viggo wants, but I can’t do that through Krakhorn so I’ll need a new target.”

Ryker stepped forward threateningly again, clenching his fist and spitting at Astrid before Viggo raised a hand to interrupt, pulled from his thoughts but his eyes still fixated on the wall.

“North of Haradurnin Peak, you said?”

Astrid nodded in confirmation, Ryker looking confusedly at Viggo when he revealed that he was listening to their conversation after all, and Viggo looked at her and gave a small nod.

“Then perhaps we ought to pay these abandoned ships a visit, shall we?”

It only took a day to reach their destination, the island where Viggo expected Krakhorn to have docked and sold his captive dragons not far from the location Astrid described, and she spent the trip eyeing the passive aggressive looks Ryker and Viggo tossed each other’s way every so often.

Often enjoying a challenge, Astrid dared to tease her brain by allowing it to wonder who of the two brothers proved themselves more aggressive: Ryker or Viggo?

She had tested her mind with a similar question before and she often came up answerless, things rarely what they seemed between the two men. She was certain that Ryker exuded more aggression through physical prowess and so, for many years, had thought him to hold more aggression than his younger brother. Yet the years had taught her that Viggo’s aggression easily matched Ryker’s. Viggo, however, was simply more _subtle_. He believed there to be two forms of aggression: the animalistic, brutish kind and the dignified, manipulative kind. Ryker easily fit into a form of animalism when provoked, that aggression often being his downfall when it pushed him to blind swings and disclosed information, but Viggo believed himself superior to such blindness. He believed that the highest form of aggression can be achieved through the psychological twisting of one’s opponent. He stretched himself tall and exuded his aggression by thinking it all a game. 

No one could harm Viggo, his ego absorbing any damage and simply fortifying his certainty that he was a _superior man_.

It made Astrid’s head spin in a pleasant way, as any game _worth_ playing might, but often left her with more questions than answers. One thing she knew for sure: to win the game-to survive in a world such as the one she had found herself in-one must have some amount of aggression, whether blind or not.

When they arrived, the abandoned ship creaking in the water, Viggo had gestured for her to follow him aboard its empty shell, the Hunters whispering fearfully as she passed them. It was an unsettling sight-only Viggo, Ryker, and her daring to climb aboard-and it was yet another instance in which Ryker proved his animalistic tendencies for anything inconvenient or worthy of anger. He growled angrily at the site before them, stomping across the wide deck to drag his stout finger through the charred wood.

“That’s the third report I’ve had this _week_ ,” he hissed, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together to watch the coal coat his fingertips, “The third report I’ve had of these _Dragon Riders_ interrupting our sales, Viggo! When are we going to put a _stop_ to the mockery these Riders make of us?”

Viggo made no rebuttal and Astrid risked venturing further out onto the deck of the groaning ship to admire the handiwork of these so-called Dragon Riders. This was the only ship still left floating on the water-albeit barely-and there were only remnants of the other two dancing on the water surrounding its empty hull. However, if the state of this ship held any indication of the fates of the other two, Astrid wasn’t sure she even wanted to see their charred frames.

Smoke still thickening the air, the sail of the remaining ship was torn in two, a line sliced straight through the symbol of the Dragon Hunters, and one side was still burning, a billow of smoke tornadoing into the cloudy sky. The ship was decorated-not a single plank left at peace-with several charred marks, some large and some small, and all the cages were overturned and empty, their locks distorted by dragon fire. Whatever Krakhorn and his men had caught, were now long freed.

The ship held no men, not even a corpse, and it was assumed that the Hunters all met a similar fate to either Krakhorn or Grindell-the Hunter Astrid had captured the information from-their bodies either bloated and discolored as they are scavenged by sea creatures or shivering and angry as they drunkenly blare their tales to a bar full of mocking tones.

The actions taken appeared to be a direct challenge to the Hunters-their torn sail a blatant violation of everything they pursued. Yet one thing could be deduced from the state of the ship: there were no signs of Hunters who lost their lives by dragon fire or even a clean cut to the throat. It led Astrid to wonder whether this was the work of the Dragon Master. His sense of justice-or perhaps strong moral compass-seemed to respect the unity of life when he freed the dragons but attempted to spare the men. Astrid wondered whether the Dragon Master knew how a world like hers turned, recognizing that most of these Hunters were simply doing a job to get paid and provide stability to a starving family at home. Wealth hadn’t been common to these areas since The Golden Age, and all that wealth was either collected by those ruthless enough to kill for it or lost to sea, dragons, and simply time. The Dragon Master had been praised as one of the wisest and knowledgeable Vikings of Astrid’s time, it couldn’t possibly have escaped his notice that the real corruption of the Hunters lay in the higher ranks-lay in the Viggo’s of the world.

Astrid sighed, bored of the poorly balanced ship already, and turned back to where Viggo was still standing on the plank that connected the two ships to each other, his hands clasped behind his back and his nose turned upwards to the wind in a way that Astrid imagined a mother might enjoy a sunny day while her child frollocked in a safe meadow nearby. In the moment, he looked about as threatening as a loitering sheep, until he opened his lifeless eyes, their dark orbs darting purposefully around the aching ship as if he were looking for something specific.

Ryker, on the other hand, had little care for any amount of purpose apart from wiping out the focus of his anger.

“Oy, when are we going to do something about-” raged Ryker again, waving his sword around as carelessly as a Screaming Death would its flagellum tail, but Viggo silenced him with a raised hand as he strutted forward, analyzing the charred markings that spanned the ship.

“Monstrous Nightmare,” he hummed, looking at a large blast that burned a hole straight through the wood before he continued onto the next charred area, “Zippleback, Gronckle...fed only limestone and sandstone primarily...Razorwhip, Monstrous Nightmare and Razorwhip again…”

Stopping suddenly to stoop and drag his hand over a particular charred section of wood, the mark much more accurate than the others, burning the wood in a much smaller area and leaving a deeper depression in the smoldering wood than those surrounding it. It was the mark of a _skilled_ warrior and Astrid felt an exhilarating thrill whisper up her back at the sight of it.

Running his hand over that particular plank again, Viggo tilted his head up with a satisfied smile, smelling the air again as if there was something there the rest of them couldn’t see.

“And there we have it... _our Night Fury_ …”

Ryker swallowed and let his eyes dart around anxiously, as if he were being haunted by a ghost of years past, before the idea of wealth intrigued him more and he stepped forward bravely, grimacing at the marksman ability proven through the charred section of wood Viggo still praised.

“If I could get my hands on that Night Fury…” began Ryker, trailing off to imagine rather than voice the dreams he had for that hide, and Astrid hoped the creature would never see the likes of men like Ryker. There was making a profit to feed one’s family and then there was storing wealth beyond one’s imagination to simply have wealth-or worse to simply have bragging rights that it was their hands that killed the Dragon Master’s beastly companion.

“This is indeed unsettlingly,” continued Viggo, standing up straight and clasping his hands behind his back once more, “yet it is perhaps _more so_ intriguing,”

“Intriguing? Krakhorn reported back with word that he was delivering two Nadders, three Gronckles, a Zippleback, and an adolescent Thunderdrum-the likes of which sells for _double_ on the-”

“I am aware of the prices on each dragon’s head,” snapped Viggo impatiently, “but do you expect me to magically make them appear on this ship? I am many things, brother, but I don’t dare boast of god-like powers. What is gone is gone...but what is _left,_ is exactly what we find ourselves up against.”

Viggo turned to face the burning sail, the wood of the mast crackling slightly from the trapped heat, and raised the side of his mouth in malicious thought.

“It would seem our _Dragon Master_ ,” mocked Viggo, his voice hardly able to push the name past his lips, “has made the first move. I must admit I am impressed. He is bold, his team of flyers obviously succinct and trained with a skillful hand, but he has one flaw of which I am quite sure. What we must do now is exploit it,”

“How?” growled Ryker, eager to gain his revenge, but Viggo clicked his tongue patronizingly as if embarrassed by his brother’s hastiness.

“Patience, brother mine,” he cooed, looking at Astrid with an intensity that made her anxious, being the fish food that Krakhorn currently was beginning to look like a merciful option, “There is a time for anger just as there is a time for peace. There is a time for rushed action just as there is a time for meticulous planning. Yet perhaps most importantly, there is a time for a vengeful strike upon one’s foes just as there is a time for exploitation of those same foes. Indeed, I have just the beginnings of a well-birthed plan mapped out in my brain but believe me when I say that our beloved Dragon Master will soon find himself gasping for breath as my hands wrap around his neck, any hope for life already sucked out of him by a leech so lethal he shan’t dare to even struggle, and leave his lifeless body strung out for all to see and remember that a new dawn is coming. One that shall leave me _Dragon Master_ of these waters, while the weak-the _Riders_ -are wiped out without a trace, along with every cursed dragon that dares cross my path.”

Astrid could only take one fearful step back-the insanity that played joyfully behind Viggo’s eyes a sight that burned against her mind-as Viggo’s breathing evened out, the twitching of his eye decreased, and his crazed smile returned to his regular vacant one.

“However, there is nothing of concern remaining on this ship,” he concluded, moving sharply back toward the plank, “We move quickly toward Dhergithyn, following the scent of my desires. Quickly, now,”

Viggo beckoned Astrid and Ryker sweetly and they obeyed, not even Ryker daring to address Viggo. Astrid kept her eyes down, darting quickly over the plank to find a quiet nook in which to find peace.

So the days continued to pass, winter melting into spring once more, Astrid performing with the same excellence as she always aimed for. The greater success she achieved, the less Viggo bothered her, allowing her to be alone with the peace that her own thoughts and breathing brought her. 

Until he arrived.

The first time it caught her by surprise. 

It was a cloudless night, the moon high in the sky, when she awoke in a cold sweat, her breathing loud as she gasped for the chilled air that surrounded her and her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. She was trembling, but she didn’t feel any fear inside her. Oddly, she felt rather warm and she recounted the dream that branded her thoughts.

She was on The Reaper, the ship still afloat on the stillness of the sea around it, its sail old and ragged and its ancient cages rusted and penned with words that held little meaning now, and in an attempt to move forward, she found her foot stepping backward until the whole ship tipped to the left, the stubbornness of gravity giving a hard press on her chest until she fell, her limbs reaching out blindly for anything to grab as the ship faded from view, her body crashing into the water.

She swam upwards, but the water continued to suck her in deeper-her struggling becoming vain ambition-until she was but a speck in the void, darkness encompassing her surroundings until The Reaper felt like just a figment of her imagination. She tried to scream, but the void captured it and stuffed it back down her throat, nothing but the hiss of escaping air erupting from her.

Then she heard it: the unmistakable shriek of a Night Fury as the creature shot across the expanse of black before her. She felt a desperate desire to run but she couldn’t feel anything around her, and her feet had nothing to grip to spur her on. She was stuck, a floating particle who could only wait for the searing pain the Night Furies lightning would bring her. So she clamped her eyes shut and waited...but the strike never came. Instead she was met with a silence that enveloped her until her eyes flew open at the gentlest of touches, a hand placed on her waist from behind. Startled, Astrid shot her eyes down to trace the hand to its owner but there was nothing there but her blue shirt. She could feel the hand-stable, soft, loving-but she couldn’t see anything there. She gasped, shivers playing tag across her spine, when she heard a gentle voice with a brilliantly thrilling timbre murmur against her neck. Similarly, she could feel a warm breath on her neck, hear a melodious voice, but when she turned to face this bodiless presence, she could see nothing. When she turned, the hand shifted to the small of her back, pulling her into an embrace against a thin yet sturdy chest, and she felt a sudden weight lift off of her, her feet on solid earth again and her lungs less burdened. The melodious voice came again, breathing against the shell of her ear, the firm embrace continuing to stabilize her. Just a murmur, it beckoned her.

“Come home, Astrid. Come home,”

Feeling a sob well up inside of her, the hand departed from her waist as she reached blindly for it, meeting nothing but emptiness again, a coldness consuming her body again.

Then she awoke, sitting up straight in her bed with a sheen of sweat consuming her body and her hands trembling.

She had pushed it aside, certain the strains Viggo had been putting on her as of late were just getting to her, but each night would be the same dream: the shrieking Night Fury, the loving touch, the melodious voice.

As if the boy plaguing her every night wasn’t tormenting enough, the voice began to carry into her days, making her look over her shoulder stupidly, Ryker scolding her for giving him a case of the Red-Hot Itchyworms.

They were catching few dragons as of late, the markets drier than yak dung left in the sun, despite it being the middle of Spring (a booming time for trade), and they only managed to catch a weakened Nadder-its hide loose and lacking nutrients-after weeks of little luck. Astrid had watched it, lifting its feet one at a time in its cage and cocking its head to the side several times back and forth, and pondered why it curved its head like that, looking at her with each eye separately rather than head on. 

Then the voice came.

Just over her right shoulder it spoke, the tone soothing her soul at the same time its spontaneity heightened her senses.

“She’s afraid, much like you, that you’ll discover her greatest weakness,” murmured the voice, “A Nadder’s blind spot is right in front of their nose so she continuously looks to the side so she can watch you, unwilling to hurt you if you don’t hurt her. She’ll resist taking the first shot as long as she can,”

Astrid shot her gaze over her shoulder as the voice continued its explanation, and Astrid sucked in a breath when the tender voice was replaced by Ryker’s harsh one.

“ _Oy, would you stop that_?!”

Astrid raised an apologetic hand, formulating some bullshitted response about the gnats being especially bad this year, and looked to where Viggo was watching her with interest. She nodded respectfully to him, disliking the way his eyes seemed to read her, and moved quickly to her quarters, her nerves shot before it was even mid-day. Passing by the cage quickly, she watched the Nadder’s eye follow her, its pitiful cry filling her with guilt. Much like the Nadder, Astrid was trapped in a cage of her own. If she saw someone able to set her free, would she not cry for help too? Would it not break her heart to watch the one person who could free her pass by with a bent head and shuffling feet?

Falling onto her bed, Astrid shook her head, trying to loosen these growing thoughts within her before they cost her her life.

So she convinced herself that the Dragon Master was just a story made up by the protectors of dragons to strike fear into the hearts of any hunter. No man could train a dragon, she assured herself, let alone ride it with skill and beauty.

“If anything,” she breathed to her empty room, “the dragons are just cleverly parasitic, using the humans' fear of them to indulge themselves during their years before Vanaheim.”

Yet no matter how much she chanted it to her empty room, he still visited her in her dreams until she stopped fighting it, letting the ship tip her off and swimming down rather than swimming up, the warmth the transparent hand brought her embarrassingly addicting.

Each time she dreamed of him, the Night Fury seemed to circle her tighter, the shriek growing closer until it felt like she could reach out and feel the scaly side of the beast as it passed, the wind surging off its wings.

Her latest dream ended differently than those that preceded it, taking a twist to grant her warm breath on her lips followed by a gentle brush of soft lips on hers. She was desperate for it, the feeling of the faceless presence against her lips stealing her breath, and she pressed her hands firmly against his chest, attempting to pull him closer despite the fact that they couldn’t be any closer, but his lips still didn’t press any further.

He had landed right in front of her and breathed life against her lips.

“I have a new target for you,”

“Huh?”

Astrid hadn’t been listening, entertaining herself with her own imaginations when Viggo deemed it an acceptable time to talk for a long duration about his superior intellect. She had gotten good at pretending to be listening, all the while reliving lost dreams.

Ryker grumbled some insult about Astrid’s inattentiveness and, even though she didn’t hear it, she threw a daggered glare his direction anyway, certain if he didn’t deserve it right then he would deserve it eventually.

“I have a new target that requires you to be utilizing your utmost focus,” continued Viggo, ignoring the useless interaction between the two to glance at his map, “This will be your mission above all missions. You _cannot_ fail me. He is particularly quick on his feet-his intelligence perhaps daring to compete with mine. A truly worthy opponent!”

As if realizing he had wandered away from focus, Viggo cleared his throat and bore holes into Astrid with his gaze.

“He is quick and he is smart. Your job is to be quicker and smarter. Proving himself to be a man of great conquest, we would be foolhardy to underestimate him. On a similar trade token, his greatest strength is also his greatest weakness.

“Dragons?” offered Ryker, obviously confused as to the role Astrid was to play, and Viggo scowled at him, a flash of anger streaking across his empty eyes.

“ _Love_ ,”

The word rolled off Viggo’s tongue dramatically and Astrid rolled her eyes. She was already convinced that love was for fools. A sloppy symbol of an immature mind.

“That is where Astrid comes in,” continued Viggo firmly, “You are going to convince your target that you are in _love_ with him. You are going to distract him-cloud his mind, cloud his judgement, and cloud his success. In all essence, with just a tad of drama, you are going to break him into as many pieces as you can imagine and bring me back the shattered remnants to display as the pride of my trophies. With less drama and more practicality, you are going to finally get me the item of my desires,”

“But with equal importance,” interrupted Ryker, desperate for the light of attention, “You are going to report back his plans… _to me_.”

Astrid squinted between them, toying with her axe to give her fingers something to do.

“I will repeat, you _cannot_ fail me on this one. If you should fail to bring me the shattered heart of this target, understand that you shall pay for it with your own,”

Astrid stilled her hands to inspect Viggo with curiosity, his threat intriguing her more than frightening her. There was little she had left in this world worth caring about, yet he looked at her with such certainty that there was at least one thing he could still do to break her. 

She blinked, and tried to focus again on the mission, always expecting at least _some_ sort of debriefing before she stepped out into crossfire.

“Of whom exactly do we speak? Who is this man and why is he my target?”

“That is for _us_ to know,” sneered Ryker protectively, raising his sword as if Astrid held fear for the awkwardly bent hunk of metal he brandished so proudly, before Viggo raised his hand patiently.

“She may know. For our greatest success hinges on her abilities now.” Viggo spoke in a soft tone and it made Astrid’s look down at her arm, certain there were thousands of fireworms burning her body. “Especially since she is not dealing with an ordinary man.”

Astrid barely suppressed a huff, as if any man had ever proven themselves extraordinary, and kept her eyes focussed on Viggo, wishing he would spare her the melodramatic flare.

“You already know this target. Indirectly but still know of him,” teased Viggo, loving to watch someone’s mind turn, “Perhaps have even…dreamt of him.”

Astrid feigned confusion, forcing her brow to furrow in spite of the fact her heart had begun to sprint, working double time as each part of her body raced to be the first to flush.

Viggo walked toward where she sat, her skin crawling and her breath struggling to remain even, and leaned down to rest his hands on his knees, his eyes pleased with her discomfort.

“Indeed, my dear,” chuckled Viggo, a hint of mockery in his tone, “Your next target is your apparent Dragon Master.”


	2. The Emergence Of A Lost Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irritated that he's been assigned shore line guard duty, Fishlegs is traipsing the sand when he stumbles upon a beached ship, its remains deformed and tattered. What he finds there is the last thing he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I must apologize because the plan was for me to post this yesterday but then we got an insane snow storm (I live in Canada lol) and vehicles were stuck and shoveling needed doing and then I was tired so I took a nap (what? I'm a university student doing her best! ;D) but voila! This chapter breathes life!

_ “Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, _

_ but inwardly they are ravenous wolves...” _

_ -Matthew 7:15 _

* * *

“Looks like we’re stuck on beach guard duty... _ again _ ,” grumbled Fishlegs, tossing a smooth nugget of bauxite into Meatlug’s mouth as she waddled along beside him, “I hate beach guard duty! The sand fills my boots and it just absolutely  _ destroys  _ all the work I put into making your foot pads soft!”

Unfazed by Fishlegs’ exasperation, Meatlug continued alongside him contentedly, her tail swinging along behind as she waited for another treat of bauxite. 

“I mean it doesn’t even make any sense, Meaty,” continued Fishlegs, “Snotlout and the twins  _ never  _ take guard duty seriously, instead making stupid dummies to look like them, so why do I continue to fill  _ my  _ boots with sand? Maybe I’ll just decide to quit too!”

Fishlegs propelled his hands skyward uselessly, lazily flopping them back to his side like mackerel in a fishing net, and stopped his trek in the sand that sparked his vexation to call up to the gods in his anguish.

“Oh, who am I kidding, girl? I could never quit! Hiccup  _ counts _ on us!  _ He counts on us _ !”

Meatlug remained ambivalent, sniffing at Fishlegs when her only concern was where Fishlegs seemed to be storing her personal quarry on his person, and Fishlegs patted her reddened nose lovingly, her auricles twitching in glee.

“Just to that rock formation, Meaty, and then we can go back home to empty my boots and massage your sensitive foot pads.”

Fishlegs pressed on along the shoreline of the island, trying his best to ignore the way the sand taunted him from inside his boots, and sang his favourite Viking tune, the sound of it reminding him of all the familiar comforts of Berk.

Several minutes passed before the rock formation drawing near became explicitly clear and Fishlegs released a squeak in his elation, quickening his pace before squawking when he floundered clumsily over a jagged plank jutting out from the sand.

Fishlegs eyed it with suspicion, now awkwardly bent in the damp sand from his momentum, and scrutinized an erratic line of wreckage, shuffling forward cautiously when the loose planks and splinters curved around the rock formation. He continued to follow the irregular path hesitantly before yelping when a small ship came into his view, its shape deformed by a relentless tide.

Fishlegs let out a tuneless whine, flattening himself against a large rock and trying to control his breathing as Meatlug nuzzled close to him, her eyes drooping in response to his distress.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Meaty,” whined Fishlegs, wrapping his fleshy arms around Meatlug’s neck affectionately, “I mean...it’s not like we’re all alone and there is a creepy ship on our shore that wasn’t there before and no one would find our bodies all the way out here and oh my Thor,  _ Hiccup! _ ”

Fishlegs listened to his pathetic cry for Hiccup reverberate against the craggy cliff surface, whimpering despite knowing that Hiccup was several miles away and busied with the endless duties the Edge called him to do, and peeked around the rock again, the scene the same as it was several moments before and the wind whistling through the cracks of the splintered ship.

“Oh my Thor, oh my Thor,” murmured Fishlegs, Meatlug offering up an empathetic whine beside him. 

Fishlegs continued to focus on taking deep breaths, surveying his options, before straightening his back and furrowing his brow determinedly.

“No! We’re  _ doing  _ this, girl! What would Hiccup do? He would  _ face  _ his fears and  _ face  _ that, frankly, eerie ship! So we’re doing this...for Hiccup and for  _ us _ , Meatlug!”

Fishlegs took one last deep breath and enslaved it in his lungs as he slunk out from behind the large rock, releasing the air to mewl anxiously as he crept closer to the devastated ship, Meatlug pressing her large head under his arm from behind.

Forcing himself to slink forward, Fishlegs held his breath again, feeling the trapped air gave him hidden strength, and bent down, peering into a hole in the ship's frame. He stretched his head in further when the sun bore down too harshly for him to see until the jagged entry was at his neck and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkened inside.

He scanned the inside, his eyebrows inverting as he observed the debris lining the sand before he peered closer at what looked like a boot before screeching and jerking himself back when the boot proved to be attached to a human leg. In his haste to escape, Fishlegs thwacked his head against the frame of the ship and, breaking free of the hole he had stuck himself in, Fishlegs rubbed his head and scrambled backwards, Meatlug jumping at Fishlegs shriek and groaning when her stomach began to gurgle in her anxiousness.

“Wait! I’m so sorry!” peeped a feminine voice from the depths of the opening and Fishlegs continued scrambling backwards, yelping anxiously again as Meatlug darted behind the rock formation, squatting fearfully behind the large rock in an attempt to hide even though her tail hung out in obvious view.

Fishlegs shrieked in fear again when a petite girl climbed free of the entrance, a dirt smudge on her cheek and fear burned into her eyes, her hands raised in surrender, but Fishlegs continued crying out, certain he was about to find himself at the mercy of Odin.

“Oh Thor! Please don’t hurt us! I have so much to live for and Meatlug has so many years before Vanaheim! Oh Thor, Hiccup! _ Hiccup _ _!"_

“Wait!” offered the girl again, keeping her hands still and shaking her head gently, her braid swishing elegantly against her back, “I won’t hurt you, I promise! I’m sorry!”

Fishlegs took a deep breath, having run out from all his mindless screaming, and pushed back from the innocent-eyed girl some more, his back making contact with an irregular rock.

“Hiccup…” he offered weakly, his terror fading when he paused to truly look at the girl for the first time, seeing her distress. He paused, panting slightly from his frightened hearts increased pace, and couldn’t help raising his eyebrows when she clasped her hands together in a kind of prayer as if he were a god to whom she was begging for mercy. 

“Please,” mumbled the girl quietly, her hands still clasped together and her knees soiled from the sand as she bowed her head, “I promise I won’t hurt you. I don’t mean to bother anyone, I just-my boat crashed here in the storm about a week ago and I had nowhere to go. I didn’t know this was your island, but I meant  _ no  _ harm!”

Fishlegs said nothing in response, instead electing to continue gaping at the girl, his eyes taking in the state of her. She was positively filthy, several patches of her skin blackened with grime, and even her blonde hair was coated in a layer of dirt and sand, making it appear a dark brown in some places. Her outfit seemed to match her hair, the colors distorted from the debris of the ship, but her eyes remained ingenuous. They were an untainted azure, unblemished in their depths, but behind their orbs was a long history, one that wasn’t overwhelmed with good fortune.

Fishlegs felt a crescendo of pity for the girl, curving his body to contemplate the small opening from which she had emerged.

“You’ve been living here for a week?” he asked weakly, pointing a still shaky finger at the ravaged sailboat. The girl dropped her gaze from Fishlegs to look at the ground in humiliation, her wiry arms wrapped around her protectively and her thin fingers fidgeting with the bands that donned her biceps.

“Umm, yeah I guess so,” she uttered quietly, “I really meant it when I said that I didn’t know this was your island. I didn’t mean to trespass, I just-”

“Oh no,” chuckled Fishlegs sympathetically, putting a grubby hand on his knee as he pushed himself into a standing position, holding out his hand to help the girl up, “You have it all wrong. I’m not upset with you; you just frightened me is all. I can’t believe you’ve been living here all on your own for so long.”

Having accepted Fishlegs' hand, the girl stood and smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear timidly.

“It hasn’t been all bad,” she explained, obviously only telling half the truth, and Fishlegs clicked his tongue tenderly.

“Well, either way, you should come back with me to Dragon’s Edge! That’s where my friends and I live. It’s kinda like a village-or perhaps I should call it a base-or maybe it’s more of a camp…”

Fishlegs trailed off and the girl looked up at him with sanguine eyes, obviously desperate for any kind of stability or semblance of  _ life _ . Fishlegs wondered when she’d last eaten a beneficial meal, eyeing her small waist agitatedly.

“Really?” she asked vivaciously, before dropping her head bashfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear again when it had slipped free of her headband, “I mean...I wouldn’t want to impose on any generosity you offer since this is your island and all.”

Fishlegs scoffed and twirled his hand in the air flippantly, dodging the girl’s compliment and swatting it into the wind.

“It wouldn’t be imposing at all! Plus, I must admit that it’s not really  _ my  _ island. We all agreed to share it. Dragon Edge’s belongs to any weary traveler! At least, well I think it does. We’ve never had a weary traveler or castaway but I can’t imagine that we’d turn them away.”

Fishlegs put a hand on his chin thoughtfully, looking to the sky as if the clouds held his answers, before the girl screamed in terror. Fishlegs looked at her in panic of her sudden outburst, clutching at his heart and releasing a yelp of his own by instinct, and watched as she clambered backward, her trembling finger protruding out in fear before an obtrusive plank snagged her boot and gravity surged upon her, forcing her onto her butt as her head struck the remnants of her ship with a dull  _ thwap _ . Her face contorted in pain, one hand surging up to grasp her head while the other scrabbled for purchase in the sand around her, and Fishlegs swiveled to see where she pointed, his eyes promptly landing on his Meatlug, the hefty dragon’s posture pouty when the girl didn’t seem to take a liking to her.

“Wait, wait, wait!” cried Fishlegs in alarm, his mind just recapitulating his words when the girl instinctively reached for an edged plank as a weapon, her eyes wild with terror as she remained fixated on the dragon.

Fishlegs stepped gingerly between the girl and Meatlug, who wailed when she was so adamantly unwanted, and raised his hands protectively.

“She won’t hurt you!” he wheezed, hastening to speak when the girl appeared to be preparing to run, “She’s the gentlest creature I’ve ever known! Please!”

The girl eventually tore her eyes from Meatlug to look disturbedly at Fishlegs, mulling over whether she ought to trust the stocky boy she had just met when a Gronckle, its tail storing enough strength to crush a fully fledged yak without mentioning the devastation its jaw could inflict, stood less than ten feet from her.

“It’s a...it’s a Gronckle,” hissed the girl slowly, her breathing elevated as she still gripped the plank with white knuckles, sweeping her gaze between Fishlegs and the Gronckle.

Fishlegs nodded encouragingly and lowered his hands, stepping backward cautiously to place a gentle yet firm hand on the dragon's side. He smiled.

“This is Meatlug,” explained Fishlegs slowly, patting the dragons rough hide affectionately, “Yes, she is a Gronckle but she’s  _ my  _ Gronckle! So while she is very fierce, she is also extremely affectionate and wouldn't hurt anyone!”

The girl still looked disturbed and hesitant, but she attempted to loosen the plank in her hand, the action taking strained effort, when Meatlug hung her tongue out of her mouth and wagged her spherical tail cheerfully.

“She’s umm...yours?”

Fishlegs smiled and shuffled forward again, kneeling down to offer his hand to the girl for the second time since they’d met.

“Well...I wouldn’t say she’s mine, per se,” murmured Fishlegs contemplatively, “None of us really think of it that way. It’s more about friendship built on trust and love. In hindsight, I suppose I should’ve started with that.”

The girl, trembling and with flustered eyes fixated on the large beast, risked taking the boy’s hand again and once she was upright, pushed herself flat against what was left of her ship as a feeble attempt to keep distance between herself and the dragon. Meatlug whined again, attempting to make herself look small to appease the girl.

“So I guess a more...proper introduction would include that this is Dragon’s Edge island, a place where dragons are loved and respected in all shapes and sizes! It was built from the ground up by The Dragon Riders of Berk! That includes Meatlug and I. So welcome to Dragon’s Edge...uh...well...uh, I didn’t actually catch your name.”

The girl seemed surprised by Fishlegs statements, the notion that the rest of the world did  _ not  _ live that way failing to dance across his mind, but managed to stutter her response.

“Oh, umm...I’m Astrid,”

“Astrid, huh? That’s a charming name,” he praised, throwing his gaze over his shoulder when a wave splashed against a large rock several paces into the water, the tide beginning to rise, “but we should probably get you back to base. Dinner is soon.”

“Dinner?” asked the girl eagerly, clutching at her stomach and all fear for dragons fading in light of a full meal.

“Yeah! I mean...typically I’d fly back to the Edge but since you’re still cautious toward my Meaty,” Fishlegs paused to gesture to Meatlug, her wings flapping a little at the sound of her name, “we can walk back! The island isn’t that big so it shouldn’t be too draining.”

Astrid mumbled an apology but didn’t disagree, still hesitant to even be near Meatlug as Fishlegs gestured for her to follow him as he led the way up from the shore toward the forest that loomed atop the cliff Astrid had been using to fight off the elements. Meatlug waddled contentedly behind Fishlegs, stopping periodically to sniff at any rock she might find basking in the sun, steadily drooping in the sky. Fishlegs chattered aimlessly as they walked, commenting on the different sections of flora that decorated the island’s lush terrain and Astrid followed as best as she could, her arms tucked in tight to her as if she feared disrupting anything. Fishlegs paused his commentary to scan her, her eyes besotted with the vast beauty that was the canopy of the trees.

“Let me guess,” he chuckled sheepishly, twiddling his thumbs, “You’re not really into the flora and fauna of islands.”

Astrid whisked her gaze from the trees to Fishlegs and laughed awkwardly, playing with the studs that lined her skirt.

“I must admit that I’m not.”

“Yeah, I don’t really expect anyone to be. It’s a rather  _ dry  _ hobby,” confessed Fishlegs, looking over his shoulder at Meatlug when she fell behind again to sniff at a particularly large rock, “So where are you from, Astrid?”

“Oh, I’m from Hergathen,” she explained, “but my parents died when I was very little.”

“Oh,” murmured Fishlegs dolefully, “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not half bad,” remarked Astrid, rubbing at her bony elbow, “I mean...I never really knew them.”

“I suppose...but in a way, they’ll always be a memory of a love you never got to experience,” replied Fishlegs pensively before flushing a deep red, “but I don’t know why I would say that.”

Astrid smiled fondly at him, kicking an abandoned twig out of her way as she walked.

“It’s really okay, Fishlegs.”

In an attempt to redirect the conversation, Fishlegs spoke again.

“So where were you headed before you...well…”

“Crashed against your shore?”

Astrid finished the sentence for him bluntly, ending it with an amused chuckle.

“Since my parents died, I was desperate to know if I had any other family,” explained Astrid, continuing to toy with the studs on her skirt, “It’s been a...project, I guess, for years now.”

“And?” asked Fishlegs hopefully, pausing their walk to look at Astrid with eyes aglow. She kept hers engrossed with the ground.

“Nothing,” she whispered, clamping her eyes shut, “When I found their graves, I paid my respects, but turns out there is no memory of any Hofferson’s left living.”

Fishlegs dropped his own gaze to the ground, and stopped twiddling his fingers, thinking it right to pay his own silent respects to the girl’s family while attempting to empathize with the girl's loss. He couldn’t imagine being all alone in the world. Astrid had no place to call home-nothing that was  _ truly  _ home. Fishlegs wondered if he had  _ ever  _ felt that way.

Astrid released a soft chuckle and rubbed at her nose before placing a gentle hand on Fishlegs’ shoulder.

“Sorry that was so depressing,” she hummed, “Either way, I ended up on your shores because I wasn’t entirely sure where I was even going so I wasn’t even anywhere near a port when the storm hit. I remember trying to keep her afloat but when I hit the icy water, everything seemed to go black.”

Fishlegs nodded his understanding as Astrid gestured sheepishly to their path again.

“We should probably keep going though. I’m both excited and incredibly nervous to meet your village, base, camp.”

Fishlegs laughed at her gentle teasing and called for Meatlug to keep up, beckoning Astrid on and explaining to her how much she was going to like it there.

And Fishlegs  _ did _ hope she liked it there. He wanted Astrid to experience the feeling of family the Dragon Riders had cultivated since their first beginnings away from Berk. They had each other’s back, even when they cruelly picked on each other, because when the axe struck the mutton they were a family. Fishlegs hoped that maybe the gods had given the Riders Astrid for a reason and that maybe they could save more than just dragons, but restore a hurting heart.

So as they walked, Fishlegs hoped desperately on Astrid’s behalf, hoping Hiccup would be able to foster not only a haven for lost and devastated dragons but for the lost and devastated soul who walked gingerly beside him, and led her the final stretch toward the place he called home.

“Welcome to the Edge, Astrid!” declared Fishlegs proudly, sweeping his hand dramatically across the collection of buildings that splattered the bay, “Though it seems our welcoming party is a bit...absent…”

Fishlegs squinted around the eerily silent base, and Astrid tried her best to stay at his side, his unequal speed as he juggled between rushing purposefully and shuffling uselessly making her anxious the more they moved. She flicked her bangs out of her eyes when Fishlegs moved to the next building.

“Guys?” called Fishlegs for the tenth time, protruding his head in yet another empty hut before smiling anxiously at Astrid, “I guess they might be down at the training arena-well at least I  _ hope  _ that’s where they are and they didn’t go on like a  _ mission  _ without me or something crazy like that. They wouldn’t do that, right?”

Fishlegs forced an awkward laugh from his lungs and Astrid avoided looking at him, staring out at the breathtaking view of the sea as if she were waiting for a ship to take her away and carry her into the burning sun that was now dipping its toes in the water.

Her stomach fluttered with anxiety again when Fishlegs ushered her onward, encouraging her to follow him down several ladders, and she continued to try and keep up with Fishlegs’ hurried pace, scanning her surroundings when they approached an open area, a depression in the middle of the open field with a large wooden framework jutting out of it. Walking straight into the blinding sphere of the sun, Astrid raised her hand to block out its persistency and observe the framework, admiring the work that must have gone into the large dragon it was decorated with and respecting the skilled hand.

Noticing two Riders situated on the edge of the depression that occupied the center, Astrid aimed to fix her hair as she and Fishlegs approached, Fishlegs giving a sigh of relief.

“Phew! There you are! I was scared you guys might have gone off on a mission without me or something  _ crazy  _ like that!”

An awkward laugh bubbled from Fishlegs’ throat as he spoke, it’s velocity even less than it was earlier, and Astrid cringed on his behalf. Clearing his throat to fill the awkward space he had created, he shot his hands out to present Astrid as she attempted to fix her bangs again, forcing a nervous smile to match her equally nervous face.

“Guess what I found-” began Fishlegs before he was shushed by the Rider closest to him.

Closing their hand with a circular flourish-their eyes fixated on the arena with a singular purpose-the Rider paid little attention to Fishlegs and Astrid attempted to shuffle forward sheepishly, unsure where to stand.

“Ta ta ta, Fish of the Legs,” chastened the Rider, his hand still pointing toward Fishlegs, “This is perhaps the most interesting duel we’ve seen in this ring in  _ ages  _ and you’re wrecking it.”

Fishlegs crossed his arms in annoyance.

“Tuff, that’s what you said last week when I talked to you about-”

“Whoa! Fish, I’m tryna enjoy a show here,” hissed the other Rider, her voice much higher than her cohort’s before she gasped, a revelation bestowing her with some kind of vision, “Fishlegs! You’re a genius!”

Fishlegs puffed his chest out at the praise, Astrid flicking her gaze between the girl and Fishlegs uncomfortably, and he grinned when he thought he was about to get credit for his hard work.

“We should go on  _ all  _ missions without you!” cried the girl suddenly, shooting her hands in the air and looking at her twin with an illuminated smile, “Can you  _ imagine  _ how much quicker it would go if we ditched Slow and Slower? We’d have so much more time to serve Loki!”

“This is-dare I say it,” began the boy cautiously, rubbing his chin in contemplation of the girl’s proposal, “ _ genius!  _ We’ll need a vision board in order to properly present this to Hic-”

“No one is presenting that,” interrupted Fishlegs with a firm stomp, his arms clenched at his side in his realization that gratitude was something  _ never  _ bestowed on this island, “Now would you two muttonheads let me introduce-”

The boy cut Fishlegs off again with a firm fist punch to the air and a sharp ‘whoop’, the girl rubbing her hands together menacingly beside him.

Astrid watched the interaction with intrigued eyes.

“ _ Yeah!  _ Do the Triple-Turn-Fly-Around-The-Archipelago-ShaWHAM!” screeched the boy, his hand still protruded in the air, before he addressed Fishlegs again, his tone condescending, “Fish of the Legs, please. Some of us are trying to watch prestigious  _ drama _ .”

“Yeah, by Odin’s ghost,” sighed the girl, leaning back onto her palms and swinging her feet over the edge, her heels smacking the rock surface every few moments, “Some people just have no concept of proper etiquette these days.”

Frustrated, Fishlegs grumbled to himself, turning to Astrid with a scowl.

“And that’s the twins for you,” he murmured, chuckling as if Astrid had any clue what that meant.

All the same, she smiled supportively but her interest was bubbling, the twins' idea of drama sparking intrigue, and she leaned forward until she was able to peer down into the arena.

Inside, two men circled each other purposefully, their stances and movements prepared for a fight. Astrid raised her eyebrows and bit her lip, a fight never failing to tickle her interest, and stepped closer to the edge, crossing her arms to eye each opponent as they moved.

The first was a stocky man in a green leather vest with a large belt around his waist. His hands gripped a mace competitively and he adjusted his helmet on his head when it slipped to the side, his black hair curling out from underneath it and his eyes squinted in focus. He gave the mace a twirl threateningly and stepped to his right, his legs tense with energy. Obviously a warrior, Astrid respected his focus and passion for the fight. He honored his opponent by engaging all of himself-body, mind, and soul-into the fight and when Astrid observed the confident way he moved, she wondered if he was the Dragon Master. He certainly seemed like it and Astrid thought of how she might fit by his side.

His opponent, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of him. Significantly taller than the stocky boy, the second man was much thinner and seemed to utilize his agility against the brawn of his opponent. Astrid was mystified when he withdrew his sword and it suddenly burst into flame. Twirling his fire-encompassed blade to mimic his opponent, the man stepped to his left and Astrid noticed his prosthetic leg, the curve of the metal glinting in the sun.

“You are  _ so  _ going down, Haddock,” mocked the stockier boy, punching his chest with a clenched fist to intimidate, “You better believe I’m going to beat your ass into the grou-”

Pausing to stand to his full height, the taller boy spread his arms wide as if coaxing his opponent to strike him where he is weakest. It was a bold move when they were in such short range and Astrid’s mouth pointed down in surprise at this thin boy’s defiance of the Dragon Master.

“Hel, are we going to do this, Jorgenson, or are you going to chat my ear off?”

Astrid’s eyebrows twitched upward for a moment, the thinner boy impressing her again when the sass seemed to emanate off him in waves, his tolerance for intimidation low. She held a similar view as a warrior and she respected the like-mindedness.

Additionally, it seemed to work when it encouraged the large boy to make the first strike, his fierce battle cry ringing around the stony walls of the arena. Astrid reveled in the way metal clanged against metal, the sound oddly calmly to her when she remembered her own axe beneath her fingertips, and she kept her eyes trained on each of their movements.

As the fight continued, each warrior having their own turn to play offense, Astrid grew to admire the way they complimented each other. They were obviously well acquainted with each other’s skills, knowing where and when their opponent was weakest, and their grunts echoed around the field as the fight began to gain momentum, their movements still holding poise despite the increased tempo of the melody. The fight continued to crescendo, their feet moving gracefully around one another, and Astrid found herself growing tense as she sought the peak of the fight-the moment of no return-and she held her breath as the thin man used his agility to make a dash for the finish, side-stepping the large man and kicking his back to make him lose balance, his mace clattering to the ground in his attempt to catch himself. And so the duel ceased with a well-structured chord when the stocky shoulders of the Dragon Master heaved and his eyes were forced to stare at the flaming sword that licked at his heartbeat in his neck.

Realizing she was holding her breath, Astrid released the trapped air in her lungs as the broad warrior punched his fist into the ground in anger.

“Dammit!”

His cry echoed up to Astrid’s ears and she uncrossed her arms to place them on her hips, her eyes unable to stay focussed on the Dragon Master and instead appreciating the strength that lay underneath the surface of the tall boy, his face cracked in a smile as he gasped for breath. She knew she should focus on the Dragon Master as much as possible, but the Master’s opponent seemed to hold himself in a manner that commanded respect. The larger boy, on the other hand, had resorted to kicking his legs out angrily, curses flowing from his mouth as his opponent sheathed his sword and leaned down, resting his hands on his knees as he smiled.

“Sorry, what was that? Just for the people in the back,” he teased, placing a hand on his ear for a dramatic flare, “I think it was three for me and only  _ one  _ for you! Does that call for a...celebration?”

“No! No, don’t do it!”

“I think it’s calling for,” Elongating the ‘o’, the thin boy stood erect again and raised his arms triumphantly, tipping his head back to shout to Valhalla. “Hic-cup! Hic-cup! Oy, oy, oy!”

“Son of a Thor on a dung-stuffed yak!” cursed the broad warrior, shooting into a standing position and pointing a finger at his opponent in his anger fuelled by damaged pride, “I am just having an  _ off day!  _ And you better know that on any average day I can beat your ass into the ground!”

Hopping from foot to foot, the thin boy opened his arms wide, taunting his opponent again, and repeated his mantra.

“Hic-cup! Hic-cup! Oy, oy, oy! You know why? ‘Cause that’s  _ three  _ for Haddock and only  _ one  _ for Jorgenson! Whoo!”

“Quit tainting my family’s heirloom! That victory chant has been in my family for generations!  _ Generations, I say! _ ”

Astrid watched-with a growing smile-as the tall boy tipped his head back to release a melodious laugh and Astrid noted that it was one of pure joy, lacking any malicious or even mocking tone. He was simply  _ laughing _ . Wondering at how it would feel, to just tip one’s head back, close one’s eyes, and cherish the simple joys, Astrid hardly noticed when the twins hopped down from their ledge to join in the fun that swirled playfully around the arena until Fishlegs tapped her shoulder gently.

She turned to look at him, tightening her arms across her chest in her slight nervousness again. She had to admit to herself that while she aimed to excel at everything she did, people who were  _ actually  _ her age were at the very bottom of her qualifications. They made her queasy and she wondered what she could possibly say to the people with whom she was  _ supposed  _ to relate and yet had an entirely different childhood from.

Fishlegs had made it evident that they had all grown up with a family that loved them, a sense of stability in their most unstable years of youth, and a certainty that they always had a home to return to where they could sit by a cozy fire and bask in the warmth of a parents unconditional love. Astrid never had that, so what could she possibly say?

All the same, failure was less an option than humiliation, so she nodded to Fishlegs when he gestured for her to follow him down the stairs into the arena to join the others, the impending doom of her introduction dwindling down to unavoidable by now. So she did her best to stand up straight and hold her head high.

She held her head slightly less high when suddenly all eyes were focussed on her, the obvious anomaly of the group. It was five against one.

“Everyone! I’d like to introduce you to Astrid!”

Fishlegs called out her name dramatically and splayed his fingers as if presenting a lost art, and Astrid smiled as brightly as she could, suddenly insecure with how dirty she really was, the silence wavering between them until the broad warrior strutted forward confidently. Hands on his hips, he flashed Astrid a wink.

“Well,  _ Astrid _ ,” he hummed, adjusting his helmet when it had slipped to the side again, “The name is Snotlout-so say hello to the mastermind behind the Edge and the best warrior this side of the archipelago.”

His comment pointed, he threw a daggered gaze to his opponent who smirked in amusement, adjusting the buckles on his arm with sharp tugs.

Astrid took a deep breath, knowing when it was go time and assured in her tactics with egotistical men such as this, and batted her eyelashes daintily-knowing her assets even when she was covered in grime-at Snotlout.

“It certainly is a pleasure,” she hummed in return, grabbing at her elbow shyly and throwing her gaze to the ground beneath her feet, “Your skills in the ring were riveting to watch.”

Astrid looked up again and felt a clamp tighten around her heart when everyone stared at her in shock, including the man named Snotlout, his mouth hanging open stupidly as if Astrid had said something inconceivable. Her mind raced, terrified that her flirting was far too outdated for them and she had set herself five paces back from achieving the Dragon Masters so-called ‘bleeding heart’.

“Yeah pfft well um yeah! Of  _ course  _ it is,” stammered Snotlout, racing to keep up with her, “because obviously every girl I’ve ever met has said that! So uh...you, me, and a date flying with Hookie?”

Snotlout looked at her with a raised eyebrow, puffing out his chest and flashing his gaze proudly to the still shocked faces of the other Riders.

Astrid was growing more anxious-her estimations regarding her targets rarely incorrect-and she cursed teenagers desperation to defy all laws of the universe.

When she gave no answer, Snotlout continued desperately.

“I meant like-Hookie is my Monstrous Nightmare,” he clarified, picking at one of his nails to imply it was no big deal, “Yeah, I’m kinda a...badass around here,”

Astrid’s throat clenched-her mind screaming in anger at her assumption-when she realized that Snotlout couldn’t possibly be the Dragon Master if he rode a Monstrous Nightmare. 

“Oh, a Monstrous Nightmare?” she murmured weakly, fast losing traction as her mind screamed in fear, “Uh...no, thank you.”

She chuckled awkwardly-wondering whether her exposure to Fishlegs was already making her less suave-and scanned the group again, all of their faces still uncertain how to react to her.

“We don’t have to ride Hookie,” spluttered Snotlout quickly, waving his hands to keep her attention on him, “We could uh do... _ girl  _ stuff too...I guess,”

The idea of doing anything unrelated to him seemed to be a struggle for Snotlout to even consider, let alone perform, and Astrid raised an amused eyebrow, scanning him up and down.

“Sorry, Snotlout, I don’t umm-I didn’t mean to imply that I was-”

“Whew! Thank  _ Thor _ !”

Cutting her off, the twin Fishlegs had called Tuff released a relieved sigh, crumpling in on himself and drawing the collective gaze of the group; Astrid was just relieved the attention eased up on her.

“See, for a second there, I thought Snotlout was hitting on a girl and it was actually  _ working  _ and by Njord’s beard, we would’ve been done for if our good ol’ Strike-out Snotlout actually got a female!”

Throwing an arm around Snotlout’s shoulders, Tuff flashed a thrilled smile at Snotlout’s scowling face, gracefully sliding next to his sister again when Snotlout threw him off with a growl.

Snotlout opened his mouth to address Astrid again, trying to keep himself nonchalant, but Fishlegs beat him to it, sliding between Snotlout and Astrid to hop excitedly and let the words tumble from his mouth with more speed than a freshly branded yak.

“Which brings me to the best part of my interactive tour of the Edge: Dragons! I can’t  _ wait  _ for you to meet them all, Astrid!” Fishlegs paused to laugh giddily, clapping his large hands together before continuing. “See, I ride a Gronckle named Meatlug-as you already know-Snotlout rides a Monstrous Nightmare named Hookfang, the twins share a Hideous Zippleback by the name Barf and Belch, and Heather has the most  _ glorious  _ Razorwhip named Windshear, a truly graceful creature just like her rider!”

Clasping his hands together wistfully, Fishlegs looked to the clouds as he praised this Heather and her beast, and Astrid raised her eyebrows when Fishlegs didn’t even attempt to hide his fondness for his fellow Rider.

“But best of all,” continued Fishlegs, tearing his eyes from the sky to focus them on Astrid again and curving his mouth upward, “Hiccup rides... _ a Night Fury _ named Toothless. Perhaps the last on  _ earth _ .”

Stepping aside, Fishlegs stretched his arm out to show the tall boy from the ring, his hand still fidgeting with the buckles on his leather clad arm, and he looked at her with mysterious eyes that filled her lungs with intoxicated air that made her want to gasp before giving her a gentle nod of respect, a smile invading the space of his cheeks.

“Hiccup is the leader here on the Edge!” praised Fishlegs some more, pointing his chin up proudly before Hiccup placed a firm hand on Fishlegs’ arm.

“Thanks, Fish, but the poor girl probably feels extremely overwhelmed,” spoke Hiccup gently, his voice distinct yet still oddly comforting, the tone of it so familiar to Astrid in a way she couldn’t place, “So maybe let’s just…”

Hiccup didn’t finish, instead turning away to scan the edge of the arena, calling and waving to a girl passing by, her raven-haired head stuck into a book. Hearing her name, she looked up distractedly before smiling down at Hiccup.

Hiccup turned away from her to smile tenderly at Astrid again, his eyes sparking to life with the curve of his mouth.

“Is it alright if I leave you in the capable hands of Heather? She can show you the bath house, if you’d like, and we’ll prepare you a plate for dinner in the meantime?”

Astrid smiled gratefully, chewing on the inside of her lip as she nodded, following Hiccup as he led her toward Heather’s welcoming face, her book now tucked under her arm.

And yet, all Astrid could think about was how the wind swirled around Hiccup at her side, allowing her to breathe in the scent of him, his boyish aroma a mix of leather and sweat while being exactly what Johann had described, several years before: the distinct smell of the sun in his hand and the clouds as his stepping stones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! Astrid has set foot on Dragon's Edge!   
> Hope you enjoyed and, as always, my many thanks for reading!


	3. Pandemonium In Its Most Familial Form

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Riders introduce themselves to Astrid and she soon learns that a lot more can be learned from the way they live-laughing, bickering, listening-than anything they could share verbally.  
> And perhaps that's a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! So here is the next chapter (posted on my birthday, no less, so a little treat for all of us)!!  
> A little insight on the mind of the writer: this chapter's greatest hardship was the realism-wanting each person to react in a way they would truly act-and I'm really thrilled with how it turned out!  
> Since I'm dealing with so many characters (9 main characters; 14 if we count dragons), sometimes it can be a challenge to ensure everyone is present and functioning in a realistic way without forgetting where people are in the setting-you get the picture! So I'm happy with how it turned out and I hope you all are too!  
> Note: mon frere (my brother in French); conveniente (convenient in Spanish); advertencia (warning in Spanish); I think that's all of them!  
> However, I won't keep you waiting with any more chatter!!  
> Enjoy!!

_“She ate...cocooned in the harmonic dissonance of a large family,_

_where every sound was distinct yet blended.”_

_\- Rachel Hauck_

* * *

When Astrid, dressed in an extra outfit of Heather’s while hers waited to be washed, stepped out of the bath house, she had to admit she felt much better.

While she had only been left to crouch, the nights bitterly cold and the days devastatingly dull, in the remnants of her boat for a week (each day spent in the hopes it would be the one a Rider would stumble across her), Astrid felt incredibly invigorated by the cleansing water that washed away the grime that had wormed its way across nearly every inch of her body and her senses had never felt more acute. Viggo had cautioned her repeatedly that while the Dragon Master wasn’t a force to be perturbed by, he wasn’t to be disregarded either, so while she didn’t dare underestimate the Dragon Master, she also didn’t underestimate herself.

She excelled at everything she did, that much she knew to be true, and the Dragon Master would be no exception.

Closing the bath door behind her, Astrid swept her gaze to Heather, leaning against the side of the bath house and reading her book, who pushed herself off the wall into a standing position, clapping her book shut and tucking it under her arm.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” replied Astrid cheerfully, the sound of her own radiant joy foreign to her ears, as she awkwardly adjusted herself when Heather’s pants proved a little tight around her hips, but Heather just jerked her thumb over her shoulder as she spoke again.

“Hiccup just flew by a moment ago to say that everyone was gathered in the Clubhouse, though he admitted that dinner wasn’t going to be for a bit because Snotlout-he’s the annoying, dark-haired, short one-burned the yak to a crisp by just throwing it in the fire and thinking that would cook it, so Hiccup had to go find something else for dinner.”

Astrid resonated with another joyous laugh, the sensation growing increasingly strange within her, and wondered if such frenzied antics were a daily occurrence or they were just giving her a notable display; Heather answered her question without her even having to ask, initiating their walk toward the Clubhouse.

“A typical day on the Edge...or at least, a typical day in the life of Snotlout,” explained Heather as they walked, playing with her braid, “Hiccup wasn’t exactly surprised when he was choking on smoke, the source coming from a burnt yak in the coals of the furnace.”

Astrid withdrew the sketch she had of Hiccup from her mind, lacking any time in the arena to really examine him when she had incorrectly estimated her target (a fact that was still tender on the surface of her pride), and considered how he may have reacted to the smoke plumage billowing up from what was supposed to be their dinner.

However, she came up answerless, able to acknowledge that both now and earlier she had been startled by the stature and demeanor of the Dragon Master.

Amidst all the stories, whether fact or fiction, she hadn’t imagined the Dragon Master to be so… _slender_.

He looked like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal, at least by Viking standards, since he was eight years old and Astrid had presumed he would appear like the man called Snotlout, with a hefty build and thickset arms. She had been so confident of her calculations, she had nearly exposed Viggo’s entire operation in one fell swoop.

However, the difference in stature from all of her fantasizing, as embarrassed as she was that he seemed to have taken up a permanent residence in her mind, wasn’t what surprised Astrid. She had quickly drawn the conclusion that the stories passing through the Hunter’s ranks held more falsities than truths. They weren’t particularly recognized for their ability to critically think; in fact, they were recognized for the opposite.

So Astrid was assured that, had she paused to analyze the stream of information given her, the outline of a lean Dragon Master made far more sense than a heavyset one when paired with the fact that his chosen companion was a Night Fury. Known for its incredible speed, strike, stamina, and intelligence, the Night Fury could hardly be partnered alongside someone as blundering as Ryker, Snotlout, or even Fishlegs-his gentility covering over a multitude of sins.

Astrid had even committed to memory, though it remains a mystery why it mattered so much to her, every word Trader Johann had breathed of the Dragon Master from Berk.

_“The Dragon Master dared to train lightning and death itself, now spending each day caressing the sun and tasting the clouds. Only the Dragon Master can fly with such precision and grace because, though separate, the two are like one beast. They think together. Breathe together. Strike together.”_

Once Astrid had recalled the description, it all made sense. Of course the Dragon Master was all slim muscle, his strength hidden in passivity, knowing how to utilize focussed agility as a greater advantage than sloppy brutality.

That’s how Night Furies had adapted to hunt dragons nearly triple their size.

No, it was not the Dragon Master himself that had surprised Astrid but rather her response to the Dragon Master.

Somehow the man commanded more respect from everyone in the enclosed arena with just a look than the brute force of Ryker could even imagine. The Dragon Master donned himself with a cloak of simple yet incredibly potent authority that captured the very air from Astrid’s lungs.

In the arena, her ultimate mission had begun to fade into background noise-unworthy of much attention-in the light of the Dragon Master, his eyes a beguiling emerald and his side smile enticing. Now, however, she was keen, she was attentive, and she was determined to succeed.

“And this is the Clubhouse!”

Astrid blinked a few times, her eyelids window wipers for her thoughts, and realized Heather had been talking to her the entirety of the time they walked there; she nodded politely at her enthusiastic guide to feign she had been listening rather than over-analyzing the Dragon Master, entering into the Clubhouse to see pandemonium in its most familial form.

“It wasn’t even _that_ burned, Thor above!”

“Snotlout, it was so dry the inside had shrivelled up!” insisted Fishlegs, “If I wanted to eat a rock, I’d ask my Meaty for suggestions!”

“Oh, shut up, Fishface!”

“Okay, next question,” trilled Tuffnut, his voice overlapping Fishlegs and Snotlout’s argument as he bounded onto the table, knocking off a cup in the process of him standing tall on his podium, “If Loki and Bjorn the Boar were to meet, who would say ‘kalamazadoo’ first? Loki or our beloved Bjorn?”

Ruffnut, looking up at him from her casual stance on the floor, pondered the question, her eyebrows squirming at the effort, and squawked when Hiccup elbowed her out of his way, his hands clasping a pan of several fried fish. In his attempts to place the pan in the centre of the table, Hiccup nearly tripped over the abandoned cup Tuffnut had carelessly kicked and growled, his face pointed downward in a swirl of concentration and exasperation.

“ _Would you two stop that?_ Firstly, get off the table, Tuff, and secondly, it would be Loki because boars can’t talk.”

“Wrong!” warbled Tuffnut, sending a plate clattering to the floor when he awkwardly flung his foot in the air so Hiccup could centre the hot pan on the table, “The answer was Bjorn because I taught Bjorn the Boar morse code for ‘kalamazadoo’!”

“That doesn’t count because you asked who would _say_ it first! Saying requires the movement of vocal cords in the hopes of achieving understanding! If you had phrased the question to imply who would have _communicated_ it first, then you would be able to make that argument but you didn’t!”

Ruffnut threw a cheeky arm around Hiccup’s shoulder and used her other hand to pinch his defined cheek, jiggling it against his teeth to Hiccup’s personal chagrin.

“We tend not to focus on such technicalities, my one-footed friend. Tends to bring down one’s view of life,” hummed Ruffnut condescendingly before Tuffnut stomped his foot down, crushing a fork in doing so (leaving it bent and deformed), and pointed firmly at Hiccup.

“Exactly, one-footed friend, or should I say _fiend_...” bellowed Tuffnut, tilting his head to peer suspiciously at Hiccup with his good eye, and Hiccup shook Ruffnut off his shoulders, swatting her hand away from his cheek and rolling his eyes.

“Why did I even engage in this conversation?”

Striding away to collect more of the dinner he had prepared, the twins snickered to themselves while Snotlout crossed his arms, pouting pitifully.

“Well, I guess I’ll just never help out around here again then! Since my efforts aren’t appreciated!”

Hiccup rolled his eyes playfully at Snotlout’s melodrama and poked Snotlout’s side gently to get him to move out of the way when Hiccup needed to place a salad on the table.

“Perhaps your efforts would be met with higher appreciation if your efforts ever deigned to rank higher than low,” teased Hiccup, scowling when Tuffnut continued stomping on the table top, “Your intentions, however, are met with high appreciation and the need for everyone to contribute to the well-being of this island are met with a ‘nice try getting out of work’ from me.”

“Ha, well I already knew that, Hic-throw-up, so I don’t even have to say shut up, Hiccup. So shut up, Hiccup.”

Astrid studied each of them in amusement-all of them exuding vastly different moods-but found herself once again drawn to the Dragon Master, her eyes lingering on him longer than she had intended, and had to consciously remind herself to maintain focus on her mission when it began to slip into the background of her life again.

Reminding herself that she didn’t belong here-that she didn’t belong _anywhere_ -Astrid kept her mind at a decent level of focus by attempting to recite everything she knew to be true: _you are not a Rider; you are a fraud; you are not their friend; you are here for Viggo; you don’t care for the Dragon Master; you are to make him care for you; you are not like them; you are broken and shattered._

Astrid continued rowing such thoughts forward, having enough experience to understand if she heard it enough then she’d believe it, in an attempt to keep herself as attentive as she had felt near the bath house, but she lost track of where she was when the Dragon Master moved again, a small laugh bubbling up from his stomach.

She considered the possibility that it was because he left her bewildered. She had never known someone to move so gracefully... _awkward_. Somehow all uncoordinated limbs, as if he hardly knew which appendage was his, he was also dignified in both poise and grace, his torso held firm with pride. Astrid compared it to a dance-except both parties were blind-folded. He moved elegantly, the dance floor his to command, while seeming to doubt his every movement, as if he were only a moment behind the beat.

Astrid felt she could watch him for hours, hypnotized by the man, but she was released from her spell by a swift and playful swat on her shoulder. Looking to where the strike came from, Astrid attempted to reign her focus in again while Heather mumbled that ‘yes, it’s always like this’ and motioned for them to move deeper into the room.

Giving her head a inconspicuous shake, Astrid endeavoured to even out her breathing as she followed Heather forward, prompting herself to recall the consequences that always partnered themselves with failure. Viggo had given her a job to do, assuring her that if the Dragon Master weren’t to fall at Viggo’s feet then she would and that was not a punishment she was willing to face.

“Heather! Astrid!” sang Fishlegs, visibly more enthralled with Heather than Astrid, and he strode toward them, giving Tuff’s calf a swift _whack_ when he had begun another Loki-themed question.

The Riders all gave the girls their immediate attention at Fishlegs vocalization of their arrival, all remaining ignorant to the way Hiccup’s eyebrows flicked upwards as the sight of Astrid freshly clean, his eyes taking in the sight before him, her one knee bent timidly in front of the other.

“We should all properly introduce ourselves,” suggested Fishlegs again, looking to Hiccup for approval of his idea, but Hiccup lacked focus, his face blank as he wandered the expanse of his mind, clearly preoccupied.

When Hiccup said nothing in opposition, the other Riders shrugged their shoulders in ambivalence and complied, Tuffnut knocking another cup onto its side when he hopped down from the table. Using the moments they needed to settle, Astrid examined the Dragon Master for any obvious vulnerability. She hardly lasted thirty seconds. Much to her internal chagrin, his shrouding aura stole all the breath endeavouring to fill her lungs, her heart sprinting into overdrive as it frantically spurred her body into uncomfortable sensitivity.

Astrid admonished herself for the third time since entering the Clubhouse, but masked herself with a smile when they all formed a misshapen semi-circle around her, Tuffnut squatting on a crate from the corner and Ruffnut slouched behind, Snotlout leaning against the wall to Astrid’s right with crossed arms, while Fishlegs and Heather stood just a few paces away from Snotlout, both of them exuding more elation than the rest of the group combined. Astrid noted that the Dragon Master remained in the centre, more aware of his presence than the others, and he leaned his weight against his hands, currently gripped around the edge of the table circling the centre furnace before anchoring his tranquil gaze on Astrid. Astrid flushed from embarrassment and felt her throat tighten, flustered and shaken by her failure-usually rare in her line of work-when the Dragon Master’s eyes caught her by surprise, her timing sloppy, and he caught her roaming eyes. 

The Dragon Master, however, either failed to notice her rather blatant appreciation of his bodily assets or didn’t care and simply tossed her a glowing smile.

“So your name is-”

“Astrid!”

Hiccup jerked his eyes from Astrid to look in surprise at Fishlegs when he answered, his hand protruding in the air as if he were participating in roll call, but Hiccup wiped his surprise from his face and replaced it with a grateful smile, his stare landing back on Astrid when he tried again.

“And you are from-”

“Hergathen!”

Fishlegs answered enthusiastically for Astrid again, his hand still protruded into the air, and remained ignorant to the scowl Snotlout was carving into his back. Hiccup just forced another smile, Astrid noting that it failed to reach his eyes.

“Right, uh okay, and you-”

“Have nowhere to go so we should-”

“Oh, may Odin himself _strike_ me!” wailed Snotlout, hurling his hands up aimlessly and casting his scorned face to the sky, “Shut your mouth, Fishface! Did it ever cross that dung-stuffed mind of yours that maybe some of us want to hear it from Blondie herself? Hiccup isn’t going to suddenly fall madly in love with you if you answer all the questions, so get over it! Thor Almighty…”

Snotlout’s insults trailed off, the Clubhouse falling into throbbing silence, and collapsed his face in a glower, crossing his arms once more and nodding curtly to Hiccup who exhibited a deadpanned face in return, Fishlegs’ mouth curving downward in a mixture of hurt and frustration.

“While said with as much tact as Bjorn the Boar,” droned Hiccup, visibly unimpressed as insincerity seeped from his mouth like acid from a freshly hatched Changewing, his hand raised to silence Tuff’s mouth when it flung open at the mention of his favourite boar, “I can’t help but agree with Snotlout, Fishlegs. You know I always appreciate the unique enthusiasm you bring to our group, but I think Astrid should be allowed the right to answer for herself.”

Fishlegs reddened from the reprimand, shame polluting his eyes, and shuffled backwards shyly, tucking his chin in closer to his chest than it already was, and Astrid logged the interaction as potentially useful, recognizing the way Fishlegs bowed to Hiccup’s authority.

“That being said,” continued Hiccup, his full attention thriving on Astrid again as he tucked his hands under his arms and kept them snug against his side, still leaning his weight against the table, “I suppose a better place to start, rather than pressuring you, would be for us to introduce ourselves since there wasn’t much of a chance to do so earlier.”

Astrid shook her head slowly to agree with his statement, her bangs sashaying gracefully across her brow, and tipped her head down to look up at Hiccup through her long lashes while biting her lip softly, the submissive yet sensual gesture usually doing wonders for Astrid when she tried it on other male targets. However, it held no effect over the Dragon Master and Astrid’s eyebrow twitched in respect of his fortitude.

Certain she’d make her mark the next opportunity presented, Astrid lifted her head again and patiently waited to try another tactic-considering whether the boy may prefer a more dominating woman-and watched as he extended a slender yet calloused hand, his movements continuing to be mesmerizing when his hand was somehow both graceful and hesitant, out to the Rider called Tuffnut on his right.

“Uh...what?” questioned Tuffnut cautiously, leaning back with a repugnant look plastered on his face as if Hiccup’s hand smelled of rancid fish that had been left too long in the sun.

“Maybe he’s found out that we played ‘Pin The Fish On The Yak’ outside his hut earlier, thus leaving fish guts and yak fluff all over the place, and he’s politely asking if you want to be disciplined with his right or left hand,” proposed Ruffnut from behind, cracking her knuckles as she thought and Tuffnut’s face flourished to life as he snapped his fingers to point at Hiccup.

“In that case, I choose the left! Why, _mon frere_ ? Simple! ‘Cause there was that one time you punched Snotlout with your right and you dislocated his jaw and made him lose two teeth. All I have to say is _this_ Thorston bone structure is far too perfect to be disrupted by your Mjölnir-like fist, whew!”

Glancing at Snotlout’s sulking face at the revival of the story, Astrid raised her eyebrows, impressed.

Snotlout packed a tough skull, that much was obvious, but what was less obvious was how much physical power Hiccup seemed to carry in his body; it impressed Astrid that the Dragon Master could punch Snotlout’s warrior jaw out of place with a single punch, sparking curiosity at what other secrets he kept hidden so well.

“If Snotlout hadn’t been endlessly _asking_ me to just punch him, I wouldn’t have-wait, you did _what_ to my hut?” exclaimed Hiccup, retracting his hand and folding his face into a frown, but when Tuffnut opened his mouth to respond, Hiccup shook his head and spoke again, “Just-no, I am not asking with which hand you wish to be disciplined with, although you better believe you’ll be helping me clean up the mess you’ve just admitted to making! I was trying to tell Tuff to introduce himself to Astrid.”

“Pfft, well you’re a spoilsport because you just told her my name!” protested Tuff, crossing his arms defiantly.

“You know he’s really been losing his touch lately,” murmured Ruffnut from behind him, cupping her hand over her mouth despite still using her regular volume, “I think that sour yaknog we gave him sparked early memory loss.”

“Such a burdening disease, especially on the relatives, you know?” tsked Tuffnut, shaking his head in sorrow, “I mean...one day you know a man and the next, he can’t even remember to let you introduce yourself.”

Ruffnut hummed in agreement, shaking her head in mock despondency and sighed, her braids swinging with her movements.

“Tuff, would you just-” begged Hiccup, his voice only a hiss as he pinched the bridge of his nose, and Snotlout groaned behind him, casting his gaze to the sky again.

“No need to explain twice, H,” interrupted Tuff with a fluid wave of his hand, rising from his crate to pat Hiccup’s leather clad shoulder in condolence, “I understand how the moons have waned your original fervor. You’ve been a good leader and now you’ve fallen prey to the trap of adolescent Alzheimers. Our Great Uncle Hagelin faced a similar fate though much later in his life. I suppose the Nuts must do everything in your stead! Rather _conveniente_ , as my fellow Frenchmen would say.”

“That’s Spanish,” murmured Fishlegs, his eyes squinting in disapproval of Tuffnut’s lack of culture, but Tuffnut paid Fishlegs no mind, instead electing to stride toward Astrid and offer an extravagant bow, his sister present at his side.

“I, fair Astrid mine, am Tuffnut Laverne Thorston.”

“And I, thine Astridlyness, am Ruffnut Eugene Thorston thus making us…the twin Nuts.”

“Yeah, more like the twin Nut-tonheads,” muttered Snotlout from the corner, a smug side-smile on his face showing he was proud of his quip.

“All you need to know about us can be found in the Thorston rule book,” continued Tuffnut steadily, oblivious to Snotlout’s mockery, “Rule One: no chicken is to be eaten on this island, no chicken is to be mentioned of being eaten on this island, and no chicken is to be thought about being eaten on this island.”

A feathery chicken, perched where Tuffnut was previously seated, squawked in agreement, fluffing her flightless wings and eyeing Astrid with distrust.

“Rule Two:” persisted Ruffnut, propelling her face into Astrid’s space with an uneasy frown, Astrid having a hard time not crossing her eyes to see the tactless girl before her, “the boar pit is sacred and hallowed ground that is to be revered! That means no filling the boar pit!”

“No entering the boar pit without a Nut permission slip!” called out Tuffnut, having begun to circle Astrid, making her pinch her shoulders closer to her chest to avoid bumping either twin.

“And certainly no caressing, petting, kicking, licking, cooing, or mocking Bjorn the Boar!” finished Ruffnut eloquently, jerking her head away from Astrid’s face and allowing the apprehensive girl to breathe freely again.

“Really, you guys? I said introduce yourselves, not-” intervened Hiccup briefly, attempting to alleviate Astrid’s physical discomfort but his words were silenced by Tuffnut again.

“The finale lies with Rule Three: there will be absolutely no tolerance for taking Loki’s name in vain! We have spent our last eighteen years of life in service to the Mischievous God of Mischief, with Loki Day being our day of greatest prankery!”

“It’s always such a…glorious day,” sniffled Ruffnut, feigning tears as she wiped her face with her arm.

“Oh for _Loki’s_ sake, are you two muttonheads done?” belted Snotlout, laughing tauntingly and strutting forward when Tuffnut gasped offendedly at Snotlout’s word choice, “Looks like it so everybody shut up. It’s the Snot’s time to impress the lady.”

“Oh gods,” grumbled Hiccup, flicking his eyes to the sky and tucking his hands against his sides again. Oddly, it made Astrid smile.

“Dear Astrid, with hair of flowing yellow and eyes of flowing blue, the name is Snotlout Gary Jorgenson,” began Snotlout, striking poses and flicking his hands around as if performing a monologue before flashing a toothy smile at Astrid’s entertained smile, “and I only have one thing to introduce about myself.”

Moving in closer to Astrid, Snotlout leaned his head in to murmur near Astrid’s ear, his hand around his mouth and his gaze sweeping between Hiccup and Astrid as a bully might pick on a more vulnerable soul. Hiccup’s eyes just remained deadpanned as Snotlout began to speak.

“Understand that Hiccup is just my dweeby cousin who wishes he could be like me. I mean everyone says that he’s the Dragon Master but it was basically me that set him on the path of riding dragons and I was basically doing it before Hiccup but like he took all the glory. So all I have to say is, Hiccup may look and act like leader around here but it’s like-it’s me in the background so if you dig a guy with leadership skills just hit me up because Hiccup just copies me and-“

“Snotlout!”

Snotlout jerked his head away from Astrid upon Hiccup’s stern reprimand and raised his hands in surrender, a sheepish grin emerging on his face but Hiccup only retaliated with an unamused glare.

“Okay, perhaps that was a slight exaggeration!” defended Snotlout hurriedly, abandoning Hiccup’s glare to turn back to Astrid with an overconfident smoulder, “But you can still feel free to ooh and awe at the Snot.”

Astrid puffed a small laugh and twiddled her thumbs across her stomach at Snotlout’s confidence. Seeming to be the proudest and therefore easiest to ridicule of the Riders, Astrid weighed her options, testing her best path to success.

On one hand she considered the weight of gaining Snotlout’s support by faking to admire his ‘manly’ qualities, guaranteeing to put her in his good books. Astrid was used to men like Snotlout-bold, pompous, overconfident; men like that felt the world was their oyster and therefore they should be respected as a god in all scenarios.

On the opposite hand she considered the shock she was met with earlier in the day when showing fondness for Snotlout seemed to be an action so out of the ordinary even _he_ was caught off guard. So while she may land herself in the good books of Snotlout, she may lose the good minds of the other Riders, including the Dragon Master.

 _No_ , she concluded to herself, _not a risk I’m willing to run this early. I need the Dragon Master to think my attention is solely on him; his ego proves more importance than Snotlouts._

Astrid thought of how best to go about teasing Snotlout, selecting something playful so as not to raise concern from the Riders but not to scorn Snotlout. If she handled it _just right,_ she’d still have the Dragon Master eating from her palm without making any enemies consumed with revenge on her every action.

It was a delicate balance that she was certain Viggo could not understand, no matter how superior he believed himself to be, and Astrid felt a surge of confidence in her abilities again that reinforced her decision.

Continuing to twiddle her thumbs, Astrid purposefully directed her gaze to Snotlout’s boots and gasped.

“Oh! Snotlout, your boot is untied!” she exclaimed, pointing downward and waiting patiently for his head to follow the prompting of her finger before lightly flicking her finger up against his nose, winking jokingly when he looked at her in betrayal but not anger, his hands cupped around his nose.

Astrid was certain, unlike the Dragon Master, she had accurately thrown the axe to the bullseye, the other Riders pleased by Snotlout’s mild embarrassment but Snotlout not cast into a rage at Astrid’s tease, and watched with a playful smile as Snotlout bore daggers at Hiccup when he had covered his mouth with his fist, sniggering at Snotlout’s blunder.

“Oldest trick in the book!” giggled Heather, sliding forward when she felt it was her turn, “As you already know, I’m Heather.”

Heather placed her hand on Snotlout’s forehead to push him back to the wall he had previously been leaning against, ignoring his complaints, and threw her opposite arm around Astrid’s shoulder.

“I suppose all you need to know is that I’m a girl with an axe, you’re a girl with an axe, and therefore we should kick ass together sometime! I get tired of all these,” Heather dropped her voice to a whisper mid-sentence. “Odin-like qualities.”

“Frigg for the win,” whispered Astrid back, winking when Heather giggled again, and the girls clinked their arm bands together in friendship as Heather slid her arm free of Astrid and fell back into her place by the wall, her face a beam of joy when she nudged Fishlegs forward with her boot.

“Oh, I suppose I am up then,” muttered Fishlegs awkwardly, smiling bashfully and removing his small helmet from his head as if he were presenting him and his house to a great Chief of old, “You already kind of know who I am. My name is Fishlegs Justin Ingerman and I ride a Gronkle named Meatlug who is the most precious girl in the whole wide world! Yes, she is!”

Distracted, Fishlegs drew his attention away from Astrid to coo toward Meatlug, shaking her burly tail in the corner and letting her tongue fall out of her mouth when Fishlegs wiggled his chubby fingers at her, ignorant to the perturbed glances the other Riders were casting him. Realigning his focus to the task at hand, he looked again at Astrid. 

“I suppose the three things I like doing best are spending time with my Meaty, trying out Hiccup’s inventions-though it's even better when he lets me help create them-and enjoying my Zen time in my topiary garden. It’s just so relaxing.”

“Haha, nerd,” mocked Snotlout, his voice nasally when he was still tweaking his nose back and forth from Astrid’s light flick, but Astrid still offered a smile, giving a subtle nod of appreciation when Fishlegs blushed and stepped back beside Heather, blushing deeper when he bumped her shoulder.

“I guess that leaves only you left,” hummed Astrid delicately, shifting her weight to accentuate her hips-Heather’s tight clothes doing wonders for her figure-and running her hand over her braid, “The most illustrious yet mysterious man in the archipelago.”

Still seeming immune to her flattery, Hiccup only laughed, his eyes closing when his cheeks puffed upwards, and lifted himself up to sit on the edge of the table, leaning forward to clasp his hands around the table's edge again.

“Well I’m afraid you’ll probably find yourself a tad disappointed,” chuckled Hiccup, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking down at his shoe rather than Astrid, the girl doing everything she could to make herself look flattering without looking unnatural.

“A tad disappointed, he says. As if he didn’t form the greatest innovations of our time, become the first Dragon Rider and the youngest Viking to change history, all while being the future Chief of Berk,” complained Snotlout, his eyebrows dancing up and down on his face as he grumbled, “But he still thinks she’ll be disappointed. Odin above, how do I deal with anyone who isn’t a Jorgenson?”

Hiccup glowered at Snotlout who smiled cheekily back, shuffling backwards a little, and Astrid made a mental log of the pride Snotlout took in his House above all others, his bias hardly able to be believed.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Hiccup graced Astrid with twinkling eyes again.

“Well umm since I guess everyone was giving full names, my name is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third and no, I don’t know why my parents cursed me with it.”

“Get it?” interrupted Tuffnut abruptly, whisking his finger upwards with a sharp whistle to point at Hiccup’s eye, “See, it’s because Hiccup means ‘the runt of the litter’ right? And he’s like the runt with his sickly arms and then he lost his leg fighting the Red Death and so he’s kind of-you know. Do you get it? I’m going to assume you get it.”

Hiccup sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, and Tuffnut withdrew his hand, chuckling to himself and wiping away an imaginary tear when he mumbled that some things just couldn’t be more ironic.

“I don’t know what else you’d want to know,” offered Hiccup, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing at the back of his neck again, allowing Astrid to pick up the pattern and catalogue it as an item to keep an eye on, curious what its presence typically meant to Hiccup.

Seeing another opportunity, she attempted a flattery tactic again, having learned long ago that inflating a man’s ego almost always led to them doing something stupid and thus handing her her goal on a silver platter.

“You don’t know what else I’d want to know?” huffed Astrid in disbelief, her face lighting up, “Uh, everything? I mean I’m not the type to harbor excessive obsessions but come on! You’re a famed man all over the archipelago! You ride a Night Fury! Can I just follow you around for a whole day and hear your entire life story?”

Astrid, having leaned forward in her passionate flurry of praise, pulled herself back and tucked her arms into herself, crossing them firmly underneath her breasts when she pretended to be embarrassed. To add reinforcement to her performance, Astrid forced a blush up her cheeks, something she had practiced until she could do it on command, ever willing to scramble for Viggo’s praise.

“Every time,” scoffed Snotlout, frowning and throwing his arms lamely out to his side, “Every Odin-forsaken time. Can no one appreciate the charms of the Snot?”

Noticing he had grasped the attention of the room, Snotlout embraced the spotlight and pinched his nose to mock Hiccup.

“I mean ‘I’m Hiccup and I ride a Night Fury and I used to be the worst embarrassment that Berk had ever seen but then suddenly I’m a picture of perfect elegance and grace and smartiness and blah blah blah’” sneered Snotlout, limping around as if he were Hiccup, “and the only thing the Snot can say to that is ‘Snotlout, outlout!’”

“The term, my small brained friend,” remarked Tuffnut, leaning his chin on his hand and bending forward to rest his elbow on his knee in thought, “is called ‘puberty’. It’s a fairly new scientific phenomenon, but it suggests that there is an unknown period in every human’s life where they grow from being a booger to a full loogie.”

“Indeed,” continued Ruffnut, pacing behind her brother, “for just as women are donned with their blood moon, so too are men blessed by Odin with a sudden change of appearance and stature. Basically, what we’re saying is: Odin blessed Hiccup with a glorious pubertal transformation.”

Snotlout stared at them, blinking several times when the twins proved they knew far more than they let on, before deciding they deserved no response and turning toward Hiccup with a scowl.

“Are we gonna eat or not? I’m starving and about to eat your other leg.”

“You know, we could’ve eaten nearly an hour ago had you not thought that throwing the yak into the fire was an acceptable solution for the dinner preparation you didn’t want to do,” retorted Hiccup without pause, grinning proudly when Snotlout only growled in response, stomping over to his seat and sitting down, grumbling about ‘stupid, Hiccup’.

“We should eat though,” added Hiccup, smiling at Astrid as Snotlout continued to grumble and the Riders obeyed Hiccup’s prompting, Tuffnut releasing a whoop until Hiccup told him he had to sit at the place set with the knocked over cup and bent fork, while Fishlegs gestured for Heather and Astrid to go ahead.

“Sit by me,” encouraged Heather quietly, growing more excited Astrid was there every second she stayed, and Astrid followed, sitting in the seat beside Heather but finding herself disappointed when the Dragon Master sat on the opposite side of the table.

She remained ignorant to why the feeling arose in her-she needed a break from flirting after her last attempts failed anyway-but her ignorance didn’t change her increasing desire to get to know him, something about him so different that she felt she could listen to him talk as long as he wanted-a rare compliment from Astrid.

Led away from focussing on her disappointment, Tuffnut leaned closer to Astrid, his cheek nearly touching hers from how close their chairs were together.

“Just a fair _advertencia_ ,” whispered Tuffnut, passing Astrid the salad bowl, his dreads tickling Astrid’s cheek, “These dinners can get pretty wild so uh as our older teacher Gobber used to say: ‘hold onto your skivvies’, you know what I mean?”

Tuffnut laughed at himself and Astrid couldn’t help but chuckle a little, serving herself a portion of the tossed salad-that looked literally just tossed together-and passing it on.

“Ooh! I call that fish!” cried Snotlout abruptly, elbowing Hiccup in the eye when he launched himself across the table to stab his fork into the largest fish on the pan, and Hiccup cried out in annoyance and pain, scowling and grabbing at his eye as Snotlout drew his stabbed prize back to his plate.

“Snotlout, there isn’t enough for you to have a whole fish to yourself!” scolded Fishlegs, but Snotlout just looked at Fishlegs and dragged his tongue up the length of the fish, a sharp ‘ugh’ coming from Fishlegs mouth.

“It is now, Fishface, unless you want to share spit-Hiccup!”

Cutting a chunk of Snotlout’s fish off, Hiccup tossed the cooked fish to Hookfang’s expectant mouth, the dragon swallowing it whole and warbling amusedly at Snotlout’s misfortune.

“Oh, whoops! Guess you can have the same amount as everyone else now!” sang Hiccup, shrugging his shoulders as if his actions couldn’t be helped, and Snotlout scowled, pointing a stiff finger at Hiccup.

“You know, you are asking to wake up and find your other leg missing too!” hissed Snotlout and Hiccup rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, right, as if the sight of your own bloody tooth didn’t make you hurl,” taunted Hiccup, “let alone the sight of my mangled flesh clinging to my broken bone-”

“Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!” rushed Snotlout, covering his ears and making a pained face, “Okay, you win! I get it! You’re a war hero!”

Hiccup rolled his eyes again, murmuring that that wasn’t exactly what he meant, before Tuffnut joined in, waving his bent fork around proudly.

“Yeah! We should tell Astrid that story about how your dad was like ‘Thor Almighty’ and then everyone was like ‘ah!’ and then we were like ‘yeah!’ and your dad was like ‘whaaaaaat?’ and then we were like ‘make noise’ and then Snotlout was like ‘bang bang bitch’ and then we caught him and then Hiccup was like ‘zoom, zoom, plasma blast’ and Hiccup was like ‘wait for it...boom’ and then we were all like ‘whoaaaaa’ as ash reigned from Asgard and then your dad was like ‘I’m so sorry, son’ and then T was like ‘boom’ and we were like ‘hooray!’”

The room fell into silence, Tuffnut gasping for breath from the rush of his story, before Hiccup leaned forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the table, his eyes squinting at Tuffnut.

“Okay, the fact that I apparently play a part in whatever you just said and yet have _no clue_ what you’re talking about is rather concerning to me.” 

“He’s talking about fighting The Red Death!” scoffed Ruffnut, stuffing a bite of fish into her mouth and continuing to talk with her mouth full, “How did you not get that?”

“The better question is how _did you_ get that?” responded Snotlout, Hiccup leaning back in his chair and blinking repeatedly, his shock evident.

“By Freya, some people just don’t know a good summarization when they see one,” puffed Tuffnut, crossing his arms intransigently when his sister hummed her agreement, her mouth now full of salad, and Heather leaned closer to Astrid.

“Yeah, it’s kinda always like this,” she murmured, swirling her fork through the several greens decorating her plate, “You just kinda get used to-Snotlout Gary Jorgenson, don’t you dare feed my Windshear a tomato when you know they make her sick! I will cut off your penis so fast!”

Astrid watched as Heather snapped her fingers at Snotlout, his hand outstretched to Windshear’s sniffing nose, and Astrid smiled, her eyes meeting Hiccup’s as he mouthed an apology to her, Snotlout elbowing him in the eye again when Snotlout rushed to retract his arm, Heather’s threat obviously a real one.

Astrid had to admit it was rather overwhelming, a lot of voices talking at once, but in a similar way it was thrilling. Astrid had never sat at a table that vibrated with so much life, Fishlegs chattering away to Hiccup who tried to listen while also shoving Snotlout out of his space every few seconds or so, the twins continuing with similar Loki-themed riddles as earlier, and Heather and Snotlout arguing about whether Snotlout should or should not keep his penis attached to his body.

The dinner tables Astrid had sat at were typically lonely, mostly because she never really got to eat with anyone else.

So she surprised herself when she began to enjoy keeping to herself and watching the chaos that emanated from the very centre of the table.

Heather stopped threatening Snotlout, his reproductive organs living to see another day, and sat back down, fixing her hair slightly.

“Sorry about that. What was I saying?”

“That one gets used to-” called Astrid, hardly able to talk to Heather right beside her when the twins started cackling uncontrollably.

“Oh, right! Yeah, it’s kind of-” began Heather before she was interrupted again when Ruffnut banged the table as she wheezed, Tuffnut grabbing at his stomach in laughter and pointing at Hiccup.

“Hey, Hiccup, hey! What do you call someone lying on the floor?”

Tuffnut paused, waiting to see if Hiccup would get it, but he just shrugged, shoving Snotlout’s elbow away from him again.

“ _Hiccup!_ ” wheezed Tuffnut, grabbing at his side as the two of them erupted into laughter again, “Get it? ‘Cause you always fall when your leg-oh, man! I can’t even talk, I’m laughing too hard!”

“See what I mean? Nuttonheads!” grumbled Snotlout, flashing Astrid a look that screamed ‘can you believe what I put up with’ but Hiccup just turned his attention to Astrid and smiled, the twins still laughing.

“So Astrid, Fishlegs said you crashed here a week ago from that tropical storm.”

Astrid nodded, covering her mouth with her hand when she had just taken a bite of salad, and paused a moment, allowing herself to swallow.

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

“So were you headed somewhere?” asked Hiccup, scowling when Snotlout elbowed him again, “I must admit, as Dragon Riders we don’t have a lot of boats around but I’m sure we could find a way to obtain one. Berk has an entire navy.”

Astrid lightly shook her head.

“Umm I don’t really think that’s necessary. I-I was telling Fishlegs that I was just kinda wandering the sea, unsure of where to go once I found all my relatives passed, so I’m not entirely sure what my future looks like. I would never want to trespass on your generosity though!”

“You’re not trespassing at all!” assured Hiccup hastily, “You are always welcome for as long as you’d like on The Edge.”

“If you can handle Muttonhead One and Muttonhead Two for much longer,” joked Snotlout, tossing Hiccup’s fish to Hookfang in revenge despite Hiccup having hardly eaten any of it, and Astrid smiled.

“I really appreciate the refuge. In all honesty, your lifestyle looks like a lot of fun, including Muttonhead One and Two.”

Tuffnut spun around to look at Astrid, his eyes glassy from how hard he had previously been laughing, and smiled, tipping his chin down.

“You called?”

Heather whacked Tuffnut away to grin at Astrid.

“Well, you should stay! Hiccup was just telling me that he was thinking we might benefit from a sixth dragon in the air!”

Astrid, in keeping with her part, raised her eyes as if intimidated, and she slightly was. It was one thing to capture a dragon; it was another thing to ride one.

“You don’t have to make any decisions until you’re ready to,” concluded Hiccup, waving Heather off and elbowing Snotlout in vengeance, “but for tonight, you can stay in my hut.”

“Where will you stay?” asked Astrid, her question oddly genuine for her, and Hiccup shrugged, his eyes alight with a thrill for the unknown.

It sparked something in Astrid, this idea of honing a love for spontaneity. Probably because nothing Viggo did was spontaneous. Everything was meticulously planned, to the letter, in the case that anything should not go occurring to plan. He had Plan ᛗ through to Plan ᚹ.

“Are we done supper because it’s my choice to pick what we do tonight and I already know what I’m picking!” declared Tuffnut, and Hiccup nodded, the twins rushing to clear the table.

“Who is on for dishes?” asked Hiccup loudly over the twins just carelessly throwing dishes around and Fishlegs raised his hand, explaining it was his day.

“Well hurry it up, Fish of the Legs!” sang Tuffnut, hopping onto the table again, kicking a cup, and watching it soar into the metal bucket full of water and suds, his sister’s fist pumping in the air when the cup stuck the landing, “You’re on the boys team for...wait for it...charades!”

There was a collective groan from the group and Astrid, placing her plate on top of the stack Snotlout was collecting and placing by Fishlegs’ bucket, looked around in amusement, Hiccup’s head tipped back in dismay, Fishlegs and Snotlout groaning, and the twins revelling in their discontent.

“Why is charades so bad?” asked Astrid and Heather laughed, setting up the chairs with three facing four.

“The _boys_ hate it because they are always the losing team!” sang Heather, “So because it’s girls against boys you’ll be on our team!”

Astrid nodded in understanding and took another opportunity to get close to Hiccup, leaning close to him when he was drying the dishes with a torn cloth.

“So why do the boys always lose?”

Hiccup rolled his eyes and leaned in to Astrid, his ends of his hair meeting hers, and Astrid repressed the thrill that ran up her body at even the slightest contact, slightly embarrassed with herself that that was all it took for him to get her shivering.

“The boys always lose because of Tuffnut. The rules are that if your team can’t guess what the person is acting then the other team has the right to steal. We can never guess Tuff’s but Ruff always can. So they always get Tuff’s point. On top of that, you’re supposed to draw a piece of parchment from the bowl and act out what is on the parchment. Except 2/6 of the bowl are from the Thorston minds so no one knows how to act them out except the twins, and Ruffnut is at least mediocre at acting. Tuff just...well, he tries.”

“I have The Bowl of Choosing!” called Tuffnut, placing a large bowl on the table and spinning it around on the surface, Astrid trying to contain the thrills Hiccup was still giving her.

“Okay, thumb war for who goes first!” declared Ruffnut, wiggling her thumb in preparation and Hiccup leaned close to Astrid again, the thrills playing tag across every inch of her body becoming nearly unbearable.

“Also Tuffnut always calls being the one to do the thumb war and he always-”

“Dammit! I lost!” cried Tuffnut, making a pained face when Ruffnut continued crushing his thumb under hers.

“Yeah…” drawled Hiccup, drying the last dish and looking at Astrid, “I’ll just say my congratulations to you now.”

He flashed her a wink, Astrid blushing and biting her lip softly again, but he didn’t wait to see it, instead spinning around to pat Fishlegs’ shoulder and hang up the towel.

Following the other Riders lead, Astrid moved over to the chairs, Heather patting the chair in the middle of the three, and took her spot, Ruffnut’s hand already swirling around the bowl.

Pulling free a single parchment, she opened it and read it, the boys all taking their positions across from the girls-Snotlout slumped in annoyance, Fishlegs trying to keep his shoulders tucked into himself, Hiccup running a hand through his hair, and Tuffnut on the edge of his seat in excitement.

“This is gonna be the time, you guys! I can _feel_ it!” chuckled Tuffnut manically, clapping his hands excitedly and all three of his teammates scowled at him.

“You said that _last time_ , fish brain,” hissed Snotlout.

“And the time before that,” added Fishlegs, pointing a finger in the air.

“And the time before _that_ ,” concluded Hiccup, getting comfortable in his chair as Ruffnut took her place in the center and began acting out her slip, holding up two fingers.

“Okay, two words!” called Heather, watching as Ruffnut got on all fours.

“Uhhh...sheep!” guessed Heather before trying again when Ruff shook her head, “Yak!”

Ruff nodded fervently, standing up again to tuck her hands under her chin and stick her teeth over her lip, pretending to nibble at something.

“Rat!” screeched Heather excitedly, “The answer is yak rats!”

Ruffnut nodded excitedly, pumping a fist in the air, and shrieking that was one for the girls as Snotlout slid deeper into his seat, pouting.

“What’s a yak rat?” asked Astrid quietly and Tuffnut shot into a standing position, pointing at her.

“A _yak rat_ , my friend, is a yak the size of a rat!”

“Would you just draw and put us out of our misery?” muttered Snotlout, Tuffnut taking his advice to draw out a parchment and chuckling to himself.

“Oh, there is no way you guys won’t get this one,” hummed Tuffnut confidently but Fishlegs just sighed and mumbled.

“Never say never.”

Tuffnut took his position in the middle and held up ten fingers.

“Thor Almighty,” cursed Hiccup, putting his head in his hands, “Ten words? Really?”

Tuffnut nodded solemnly before puffing out his chest and pretending to stroke a non-existent beard.

“Beard!” called Fishlegs but Tuffnut shook his head, still stroking a non-existent beard.

“Uh...Viking?” offered Hiccup but Tuffnut just shook his head again.

“Oh! It’s me, right? Snotlout!” exclaimed Snotlout, shooting up from his slouched position but all three boys just stared at him before Fishlegs spoke.

“Snotlout, you don’t even have a beard.”

“Yeah, well that’s how some people view me,” scoffed Snotlout and Hiccup just waved it off, addressing Tuff again.

“Just skip that word. What’s the next word?”

Tuffnut nodded and began walking on the spot.

“Walking?” asked Hiccup but Tuffnut just shook his head again, Hiccup flopping back in his seat in defeat.

“Running?” contributed Fishlegs to no success.

“A horrible actor?” growled Snotlout, earning a glare from Tuffnut.

“Not a lot of time left,” sang Heather gleefully, and the boys released a collective groan, Snotlout hissing that that wasn’t a surprise and Tuffnut waved his hands wildly to gain their attention before pointing firmly at Hiccup.

“Hiccup!” shouted Fishlegs but Tuffnut shook his head and kept pointing at Hiccup.

“A boy? A man? Leather?” called Hiccup, looking down at his chest to see if Tuff was pointing at anything in particular.

“A one-legged asshole!” shouted Snotlout, earning a glare from Hiccup and a firm shake of the head from Tuffnut.

“And that’s time!”

Heather grinned at the boys, all of them slouched in defeat, and Tuffnut spun around to give the girls a chance to steal, Ruffnut leaning forward on her elbows and Heather resetting the timer.

At the turn of the sand inside the timer, Tuffnut began stroking a non-existent beard again but this time Ruffnut shouted the answer, no question to what it was.

“Stoick!” 

Tuffnut nodded excitedly before assuming his walking stance again but Ruffnut waved that off.

“Skip those words,” she instructed, and Tuffnut obeyed, instead beginning to look and point at something in interest.

“Market!”

Tuffnut nodded excitedly again and pointed at Hiccup, Hiccup’s face fallen in a deadpan scowl and his posture slouched.

“Ooh! I know it! I know it!” sang Ruffnut, standing up on her chair to declare her answer, “Stoick going to market to buy himself a new son!”

“Yeah!” shouted Tuffnut happily and Fishlegs gestured at Ruffnut as she bowed.

“Tuff, the point is to get _us_ to answer correctly, not give a point to the girls!”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault you guys have brains the size of yak rats,” defended Tuffnut, crossing his arms and taking his seat while Snotlout growled.

“Yeah, _that’s_ the problem here.”

“My turn!” sang Heather excitedly, rushing forward to pull a parchment from the bowl and thinking hard about it before nodding, facing the girls and holding up five fingers.

Using her first action she spread her arms out wide from her heart and began flapping them violently.

“Uh...what?” drawled Ruffnut and Astrid twiddled her thumbs before offering up her first idea.

“Umm dragon?”

Heather twirled her hand in a circle, encouraging Astrid to go on, before pointing at Snotlout.

“Hookfang!” called out Ruffnut happily and Heather nodded before holding up four fingers.

“Okay, first word is Hookfang, fourth word is…” 

Ruffnut trailed off as Heather rushed to Hiccup, nearly pulling him off his chair-the boy releasing a small cry-when she pulled his prosthetic off, bending over to ‘attach’ it to her knee.

“Hiccup!” cried Ruffnut and Heather held up five fingers, signalling her description of the fifth word, and made a roof over her head.

“Your face!” guessed Ruff but Heather shook her head and looked to Astrid.

“House?”

Heather nodded excitedly and made an ‘x’ with her arms before mimicking a flame.

“Fire?” guessed Astrid again and Ruffnut shot her arm in the air excitedly.

“Hookfang burning down Hiccup’s house!”

Heather nodded and clapped, looking triumphantly at the boys, all of them annoyed when she handed Hiccup his leg back and took her seat again, letting Snotlout stride forward.

“Fine, if you muttonheads are gonna be muttonheads then I’ll just have to do this myself!”

Drawing a parchment, Snotlout read it and cracked his fingers, taking his place in front of the boys and holding up four fingers.

The boys watched as Snotlout pretended to take off part of his arm and replace it with another before Hiccup sat up excitedly.

“Gobber!”

Snotlout nodded and lunged forward, nearly pulling Hiccup from his chair again, and used Hiccup’s leg as a cup, drinking from it.

“Drinking,” guessed Fishlegs and Snotlout nodded again, tossing Hiccup’s leg back to him before pinching his face.

“Pain!” shrieked Tuffnut, leaning forward again, but Snotlout scowled and tried again, scrunching his mouth.

“Bitter! Pain! Gross! Detestable! Gobber drinking his own detestable smell!”

Hiccup and Fishlegs looked confusedly at Tuffnut when he kept shouting out answers, filling up the remainder of their time.

Scowling, Snotlout turned to the girls, pinching his face at them.

“Sour,” guessed Astrid and Snotlout rolled his eyes, nodding.

“Gobber drinking sour yaknog!” finished Heather confidently, Snotlout growling and stomping back to his seat angrily.

“Did you really need to use my leg?” hissed Hiccup but Snotlout shrugged.

“It’s the only prop we have!”

“There is a cup _right there!_ ” retorted Hiccup, moodily attaching his leg again after shaking an annoyed fist at the cup situated on the table.

“Is it me then?” asked Astrid politely and Hiccup leaned forward.

“You don’t have to pick from the bowl,” he offered tenderly, his eyes fond, “You can just make up your own because, to be honest, the bowl is a disaster.”

Astrid nodded and thought for a moment before holding up five slender fingers.

“Ooh, five words. I like ambition,” hummed Ruffnut, rubbing her hands together and Astrid held up one finger before turning around and pulling free Hiccup’s leg again.

“Oh come on!” he whined, but Astrid paid him no mind, instead following Heather’s action from before and ‘attaching’ it to her knee.

“Ooh, Hiccup!” sang Heather and Ruffnut at the same time and Astrid nodded before tossing Hiccup’s leg to the side and lying on the ground, showing off her dexterity when she bent her knee underneath herself, the boys uncertain whether to be impressed or look away in shame of how her flexibility influenced them.

Heather looked at her confusedly but Ruffnut gasped, hopping into a perched position on her chair excitedly.

“Oh, please let it be what I think it is!” gasped Ruffnut before pointing purposefully at Astrid on the ground, “Please tell me the answer is ‘Hiccup lying on the ground’. Am I right?”

Astrid nodded and grinned, Hiccup dropping his mouth in offense when she offered him back his prosthetic with a flirty shrug.

Several more turns passed, the boys losing all their points when Tuffnut guessed on the girls turn (“Whoops. I forgot it wasn’t our turn, okay, Hiccup? Quit looking at me with your disappointed face! It makes me weepy!”), and Hiccup was impressed when Astrid eventually drew from the bowl, actually managing to get the girls to guess the phrase ‘Stoick and Gobber arguing about whether or not to discipline Hiccup for being constantly annoying’.

So the time passed, the sun dipping beneath the sea, and eventually the boys deemed the game over, the girls reigning over them 25 to 3.

“Hey Heather, will you sing us Varnsången? It reminds me of home,” asked Fishlegs quietly, and Heather beamed and nodded, sitting on a crate and letting the other Riders form a tight ring around her, Fishlegs leaning his head on her leg and even Snotlout scooting in closer to Heather’s feet, Hiccup offering Astrid a place beside him. The twins rested their helmets against each other’s, Tuffnut yawning, and Astrid watched as Heather patted Fishlegs head lovingly and began to sing, her voice soft and gentle as she sang the tender lullaby to them all.

Astrid watched as all of the Riders eyes began to droop, Snotlout and Fishlegs yawning periodically as the dragons drew closer to the group, enclosing the Rider’s in a warm circle as the furnace danced an orange hue against the wall.

Hiccup leaned back against Toothless, Barf and Belch each rested their head on the twins lap, and Hookfang and Meatlug snuggled close to each of their Riders, the sentiment from these great creatures amazing Astrid.

She had never seen anything like it, but the loyalty and trust these dragons had for their Riders was undeniable.

Astrid looked to where Hiccup’s Night Fury curled around him, resting his head on Hiccup’s lap and purring when Hiccup petted him gently atop the head. She had never seen a NIght Fury so close before-Ryker speaking the truth when most people thought them extinct-and most of the stories she heard were horrifying, the shriek echoing across the night sky, a searing flash of lightning, and speed that no man could imagine. Yet here the Dragon Master’s Night Fury lay, as harmful as a fly, relishing in the love its master was giving him.

Astrid blinked, finding Heather’s lullaby also making her realize the hardships of the day, and yawned.

“Du varg du varg, kom inte hit. Ungen min får du aldrig,” finished Heather, giving Fishlegs head one last stroke, and Astrid, though tired, mentally logged that Heather held a maternal hold over the group, all of the Riders stirring themselves back awake in time to make it to their beds.

With a yawn, the twins stumbled off to their bed, sparking the departure of the other Riders, and Hiccup smiled tiredly at Astrid before rising-much to the annoyance of his dragon-and gesturing for her to follow him. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Hiccup growled when the remnants of the twins game of ‘Pin The Fish On The Yak’ became apparent, still sitting on the platform that circled his hut.

“I apologize for all this,” murmured Hiccup tiredly, stepping over a particularly large chunk of stuffing before opening wide his door.

Astrid peered inside, looking at the several tail fins that lined the far back wall and the forge in the corner of the room, noticing the disaster of papers on the table beside the forge, several inventions scribbled on loose pieces of papers and a prototype teetering on the edge.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” mumbled Hiccup embarrassedly, noticing her staring at it and rushing to arrange the papers in a semi ordered fashion, but Astrid waved it off, looking up the stairs to where she could see a bed.

Pushing past her, Toothless lunged onto the second floor, preparing to sleep on his rock but Hiccup called out to him.

“No, no, Toothless! Not tonight!”

Toothless looked down at Hiccup questioningly, watching as Hiccup walked Astrid up the stairs and pointed for him to go back down.

Toothless pouted, but obeyed, and Hiccup gestured blindly around the room.

“Uh, well make yourself at-at home. This is a bed-I mean, you _know_ it’s a bed, I just-it’s _my bed_ that you can sleep on,” he stammered, and Astrid raised an eyebrow, wondering if she should attempt to flirt some more when he was obviously vulnerable.

However, she elected to hold off, finding herself far too tired, and Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck again.

“Yeah, so umm I’ll leave you to uh-yep, and if you need anything, Heather is just right next door. I mean, I think she is, if she’s not with Fishlegs.” Hiccup continued to stammer. “Not that-not that you wanted to know that because who in their right mind would want to know that?”

As if seeing the fool his Rider was making of himself, Toothless bellowed from below and Hiccup rushed to the stairs again, giving Astrid an awkward wave.

“Anyway, good night. Yep-goodnight.”

“Thank you, Hiccup.”

Astrid spoke quietly and reached out, grabbing Hiccup’s wrist kindly, but she hissed and pulled back when a sharp heat blazed against her hand. She looked down at the surface of her palm, the feeling making it seem as if she got burned, but there was nothing there but a tingly sensation, her hand as pale as it always was. She looked up at Hiccup, his face as alarmed as hers, and found his own hand gripped around his wrist as if he had felt the same sensation, his eyes flicking back and forth between her hand and his wrist before he forced a smile and turned away, bolting down the stairs and out of the room, shaking his arm as if trying to loosen the tingling sensation that remained there.

Astrid couldn’t help but wonder if they should’ve talked about it, but he was gone and she was tired, and so she attempted to push it from her mind as she sat on the bed and kicked off her boots, not even bothering to shed the set of Heather’s clothes she was borrowing as she fell onto Hiccup’s pillow, the scent of him encompassing her and lulling her into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was so long! My favourite things to write in regards to the Edge setting is 'family' moments. The carefree, silly, goofy moments, however, I promise this wasn't all for naught and it has a designated purpose in my plan!  
> Also! The song Varnsangen is a legitimate song (not mine!) by Lena Nyman, and Jonna Jinton does a beautiful cover of it on Youtube for anyone interested (if you look in the description, it translates the song to English)! I often do a lot of research on the culture I am dealing with in my writing so I wanted to choose a legitimate nordic lullaby!  
> Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts because I can't even *describe* how much they mean to me and, as I will always end my chapters, thank you so much for reading and supporting!


	4. 'Asking Politely': A Lesson Presented By Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Astrid's first full day on the Edge and each Rider seems to hold vastly different ideas about how she best spend it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyoo! It's me again! This is later than I wanted-can life take a holiday for even just five minutes?-but it's here!

_ “Let’s take a walk. _

_ You can show me some of your memories and I’ll show you some of mine.” _

_ \- Adam Berlin _

* * *

Astrid had already been awake for several minutes, but the warmth of Hiccup’s fur blanket was keeping her in bed when it seemed like a harsh winter awaited her outside-despite the fact the world was now several months into spring- until a sharp knock came on the door. Rubbing her eye, Astrid forced herself to sit up, both cursing and exalting the comfort of Hiccup’s bed, and looked to the door, calling out that the source of the knock could come in, adjusting Heather’s slightly twisted shirt when she considered it might be Hiccup.

Astrid hoped it was, wondering if they were just going to ignore the events of yesterday night, and began to map out what she could say to him when he seemed so adamant to leave, barely able to look at her once the burn (or  _ whatever  _ one could call it) occurred across their skin. 

“Hey, it’s just me,” hummed Heather, poking her head in the door, and Astrid smiled and gave a curt wave, both despondent and relieved it wasn’t the target of her earlier thoughts, “I brought your clothes. I washed them last night before bed and left them hung out to dry so you’d be more comfortable in your own clothes today.”

“Oh, thanks…” remarked Astrid, her thanks sounding pitiful to her in light of how stunned she was.

Astrid hadn’t bothered to remember her clothes last night, far too tired to dwell on her materialistic needs, yet Heather had not only kept her in mind but gone above and beyond to take the time to act on her thoughts, making sure Astrid’s laundry hit the washing board before sleeping herself.

The gesture, proving itself magnanimous, made Astrid pause, her skin writhing at her own presence when she wondered how gracious Heather would be if she really knew how wretched Astrid’s heart proved itself to be.

“It’s not a problem!” sang Heather happily, unknowing of Astrid’s self-loathing and placing the folded pile of Astrid’s clothes on Hiccup’s work table, his papers still only semi-organized from his haphazard attempt last night to make his hut presentable, “It’s laundry day today anyways and I’m up to complete it for this month. It’s my least favourite chore. Mostly because boys are gross and I hate having to wash their gross laundry.”

Astrid tittered and finally convinced her rebellious body to swing its legs out of Hiccup’s bed, traipsing barefoot down the stairs toward Heather, the girl’s smile aglow with the morning sun.

“Sometimes I wonder whether Snotlout  _ ever  _ changes his underwear between laundry days,” continued Heather, both girls sharing a shudder and erupting into laughter at the thought before Heather gained control of herself to speak again, “Well, I’ll let you get yourself ready for the day, but if you’re looking for something to do, I could always use a sparring buddy down at the arena.”

“That actually sounds great! Give me two minutes and I’ll be right out?” offered Astrid, framing her statement into a question and Heather beamed and nodded, rushing out of the room and clicking Hiccup’s door shut behind her.

Shedding Heather’s clothes and folding them nicely on the table, Astrid grabbed her own, the scent of lye strong of them, and noticed how thorough Heather had been, certain her clothes had never looked so good, not even freshly bought. The transitioning blue threads that made up her shirt clearly accented and her leggings sliding fluidly onto her slender yet defined legs, Astrid thought again of Heather’s willingness to think of Astrid’s laundry before her own sleep, pondering whether she was normal to develop such fondness for someone after knowing them less than a day.

Whether normal or not, the fondness was steeping within her and Astrid found herself bolting up the stairs two at a time, adjusting her skirt as she pulled on her boots, and hurriedly making Hiccup’s bed presentable, fluffing his pillow so she didn’t seem ungrateful of the hospitality, before flying swiftly down the stairs again to throw open his door, legitimately enthused to have someone who valued spending time with her.

Heather brightened again at the sight of Astrid’s face, pushing off the wood of Hiccup’s house where she had previously been leaning, and Astrid closed Hiccup’s door gently behind her, striding forward briskly to fall into step with Heather when the girl began the trek to the arena, Windshear trodding along behind them happily.

“I have to be honest,” began Heather, her pace casual as they walked, “while I  _ was  _ legitimately dropping off your clothes, I also wanted to snag you before any of the other muttonheads who occupy this island got to you.”

Astrid looked up from where she was watching her feet as she walked, her strides falling into a line, one foot in front of the other, to encourage Heather to elaborate. Heather continued.

“Mostly because,  _ Thor above _ , you can’t imagine what it’s like with all these boys! Ruffnut is my only escape and she can often be found alongside her brother so more boys!” Heather tossed her hands up in the air, snorting a little at her own melodrama. “So I guess once you came, I had high hopes that you and I would get along so I could have a break from-”

“Boys?” finished Astrid, chortling and giving Heather a playful punch on the shoulder after teasing her, turning her thoughts inward and determining that she probably understood more of Heather’s predicament than Heather could possibly realize, having been raised on the seas  _ by _ men with nothing  _ but  _ men.

“Exactly!” giggled Heather, raking her nails mindlessly across her smooth forehead, “See? You’re already catching on!”

“Well, I’ve been told I’m a rather adept person, but I think even  _ Snotlout  _ would’ve been able to see that one coming.”

“You can never be certain with Snotlout. He’s the trickiest one to read, believe it or not.”

Astrid quirked her eyebrow in interest, encouraging Heather to explain herself.

“You see, some things are certain,” elucidated Heather, waving her hand in a graceful flourish as she explained, “For example, I can guarantee you that anything you say to Tuffnut won’t be taken the way you intend-not out of any purposely malicious intent, but simply because he doesn’t think like the general population. However, that doesn’t qualify him as unintelligent or even ignorant. In fact, in the rare instances a girl can follow Tuff’s thinking, you realize that he’s actually rather quick-witted just in a largely chaotic way; as in, you can bet your ass he will get you into the roughest messes you can imagine, but he’ll also concoct a way to get you out. Similarly yet distinct, I can also guarantee you that Ruffnut is hearing and seeing a lot more than you realize. Ruffnut is like her brother in that her ability to be clever is also driven by chaos-especially since Ruff often utilizes her brother’s inclination for chaos to her own amusement-but each twin’s smarts follow a different strain. While Tuff is legitimate in his claims that he has little idea what you’re saying to him, Ruff knows exactly what you’re saying, you just can’t be certain she will take your words in the way you intend them. While she knows your intentions, she just might decide that your words mean very little to her. In a completely perpendicular fashion, Fishlegs is positively brilliant, but in a less tumultuous way than Tuff and a less manipulative way than Ruff. I might even dare to say Fishlegs holds the most dragon knowledge in this archipelago and others, and yet, Fishlegs stores knowledge simply to have knowledge, believing it the treasure above treasure. Unlike the twins, he wouldn’t dare to think of using his knowledge to lead to the ultimate demise of someone. Who’s next? Oh, Hiccup is...well...Hiccup. What else is there to say there?”

Astrid’s racing heart-its speed picking up at simply hearing Hiccup’s name-cursed Heather’s lack of intel on the Dragon Master. Astrid had only  _ known  _ Hiccup in the flesh for less than a day and yet, treading the line of abnormality, she felt she had known him for years, the stories carrying him to her ears and beyond, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they lent themselves to be true.

Astrid toyed with the possibility of asking Heather to elaborate, weighing out whether it would seem too desperate-or perhaps too obvious-when she had only known Hiccup for a few hours (cancelling out the time she spent asleep in his bed) and yet, before Astrid could ponder asking for any longer, Heather had already moved on, Hiccup obviously  _ not  _ a topic of interest to her.

“See, but Snotlout is less predictable. I would never dare to grace him with this compliment, but he is a strong warrior and leader. He just doesn’t like the responsibilities-the consequences-that come from being a leader, especially when he’s seen Hiccup fall on many a sword for those whom he leads, more than half of them not laid there by Hiccup’s own choice. So while his strategy on the battlefield is rarely beaten, when he’s not showing off, his strategy at succeeding in life lacks in more areas than one. He is the twins  _ physical  _ punching bag and Fishlegs and Hiccup’s  _ verbal  _ punching bag simply because he just sets himself up for mockery.”

Heather shrugged her shoulders as if even she weren’t sure what to expect of Snotlout and pulled her braid back over her shoulder when it fell to her back.

“Snotlout is...difficult, to say the least, but Hiccup relies on him heavily, especially in the air. It’s funny-they are cousins and absolutely  _ ruthless _ to each other sometimes-but you can see they each wish they were the other. You can tell Hiccup envies the confidence Snotlout has, always doubting himself as a Chief and leader, and yet Hiccup’s envy of Snotlout blinds him to the fact that Snotlout envies Hiccup for his gentle hand and level-headedness, believing that Hiccup leads with far greater dignity than he could. They challenge and compliment each other; they just insult each other mercilessly while doing it. Ah, but I digress. Why didn’t you tell me I was rambling on?”

Heather flushed in embarrassment, shifting her weight from foot to foot and fussed with the ends of her hair, and Astrid stopped walking to place a hand on Heather’s shoulder reassuringly. 

“Please don’t be sorry,” reassured Astrid, attempting to exude her support with a colorful smile, “It’s interesting to hear. I mean...here you all are. Six teenagers-or I guess, young adults-with an island of their own and it runs efficiently, has fully bloomed architecture, and you’re all Dragon Riders. I mean, one can’t help but wonder how you managed it all.”

Astrid gave a sweeping gesture around the island, her eyes grazing across its vast terrain decorated with splatters of buildings, and smiled a little wider, but Heather waved a hand modestly, trilling her lips as if the Riders hadn’t done anything, despite the fact Astrid’s observation was accurate.

“In all honesty,” explained Heather, continuing to toy with the end of her braid, “We owe it all to Hiccup. We were content to settle for the familiarity Berk held for us, all of us having abandoned the riding lifestyle we once had for a more complacent life, but not Hiccup. He was certain that there was  _ more _ . He could never explain what  _ more  _ meant, but he felt the horizon calling to him. He hadn’t wanted any of us to feel we had to follow, but there was no way in  _ Hel  _ we were going to let him hog all the adventure! So we all risked the unknown. I mean, Hiccup had never let us down before. He’s not like...most Vikings, I guess. He-I don’t know-he just thinks differently, feels things differently.”

“For example, the societal norm was to kill dragons and he managed to be the first to ride one?” clarified Astrid, probing for information she had wished for since Johann had first swirled the story into the mess she could declare her life to be-the Dragon Master a searing white amidst the black of her heart and mind like oil in water-and Heather laughed, her chin trembling from the joy.

“Pretty much!”

Astrid considered Heather, finding herself endlessly desperate for anything and everything she could use to solidify the glorified image of the Dragon Master she had, and considered carefully whether Heather could be trusted. The girl was obviously driven by emotion more than logic, that much had been made obvious to Astrid, and so Astrid risked letting a blush rise to her cheeks to test the level of observance Heather functioned at, curious whether her new found ‘friend’ would recognize the supposed ‘feelings’ Astrid was developing for Hiccup.

While Astrid wouldn’t dare reveal her plan to any of the Riders-the familial dynamic radiating off the Edge as a Night Fury’s blast continued to burn wood days after the strike-she was attempting to mark how attentive each of them were and when Heather raised an eyebrow and popped her hip out, her hands on her waist, Astrid catalogued the girl as highly attentive and possessing a sharp eye, making a mental note that caution was to be used around Heather.

Since Heather had picked up the hint, Astrid now had to play along with the scenario, following it through naturally but still following caution, and chose a simple yet still telling gesture when she threw her gaze timidly to the earth and bit her lip to contain her girlish smile, dragging her foot over the eager blades of grass beneath her feet, bending their pointed postures in small circles.

“What?” asked Astrid aloofly, the sudden thought sprinting across her mind that while she had inclinations of Heather’s connections with the men she had shared both home and childhood with, she had no definitive proof, and Astrid-trained to keep composure through any twist of fate-kept good face but scanned Heather for any annoyance, the thought of Hiccup already having a betrothed never, in all her longing for him, rising to her thoughts. 

While Fishlegs had made his affection for Heather obviously known, Heather had kept hers mostly unknown. Astrid found no distaste in the girl’s body language, yet still felt a heat flash strike her from Asgard, hit the ground, and shoot back up to the Bifrost. 

Men were Astrid’s specialty, specifically men who were dull-witted and lustful for women significantly younger than them-the licentious and debauched sinners that hid among the crowd-not women,  _ especially  _ not women Astrid’s own age.

What couldn’t possibly have been more than a few moments seemed to pass as hours and Astrid felt herself growing increasingly unsettled as she overanalyzed Heather’s stance, certain that there was something hiding beneath the surface.

If Hiccup was betrothed, what then was Astrid to do? Every target she had previously seduced was caught in a sparkless marriage-trading loyalty for a night of thoughtless passion or even  _ less _ -and she felt under qualified as it was to corrupt Hiccup, without mention of Hiccup already having a blossoming love life.

While it felt Heather was just implying that she had observed Astrid’s attempts to capture the boy's attention, Astrid couldn’t help but be terrified that the mind of a teenage girl was much more complicated and Astrid was about to lose the only friend she had on the island. 

_ Perhaps that is it _ , thought Astrid solemnly,  _ perhaps I am less worried about failing and more worried that the only chance I have to meet any woman my own age will fester with bitterness when we ultimately have to scramble for the affections of the same boy. _

With such a thought, Astrid’s hour long second ended and Heather spoke, her voice as gentle as it had always been and the vibrant light surging from her eyes proving that all Astrid’s fears were imaginary-the grip fear has on the soul rarely as tangible as one thinks it is.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” asked Heather mischievously, her eyebrow waving to Astrid as Heather poked her in jest, “While I’m not implying anything if you’re not implying anything, don’t think it escaped my notice that you were dropping hints at Hiccup’s feet all of last night as if he were some kind of sexually charged altar.”

Astrid felt another blush rise to her cheeks but this one caught her by surprise, the giddiness of her blood less forced than before and more enjoyable, a kind of exhilaration waltzing across her skin. She bit her lip and continued drawing circles with her toe.

“I wouldn’t say  _ all  _ night.”

“Ha, but you didn’t deny that you  _ were  _ flirting or that you view him as a sexually charged altar,” pressed Heather, raising her eyebrows higher on her forehead than Astrid had ever imagined someone could, and Astrid found herself giggling  _ girlishly  _ as she might imagine a school girl would when passing a boy a note.

“What does ‘a sexually charged altar’ even mean?”

“It means...well...I don’t actually know,” laughed Heather, clutching at her stomach and leaning forward, her whole body singing with delight, “I meant you were giving him the  _ eyes _ . Don’t tell me you didn’t want to jump him!”

Astrid considered Heather’s implications. While Heather was right, the point of Astrid’s mission was to find a foothold in which to convince Hiccup that love flowed passionately between them, she was also wrong. Something about Hiccup Haddock was perfect just the way it was, and Astrid didn’t want to rearrange a hair on the boys head.

He held a kind of innocence, an untouchable belief that the world was a sphere of blessed opportunity, and Astrid dreaded the moment she would have to crush that sphere. Yet Astrid was in the present and that was a problem for the future, so she poked playfully at Heather’s stomach and grinned, her nose wrinkling happily as her cheeks squished her range of vision.

“I’m neither confirming nor denying anything,” offered Astrid, tipping her nose up defiantly, Heather pouting at the privacy Astrid was claiming, “All I will say on the matter is that perhaps a girl wants to just...appreciate him.”

Heather wiggled her eyebrows teasingly, mocking Astrid's formality toward the matter, and attempted to lure more from Astrid’s throat, but Astrid settled on a joking punch to the dark-haired girls arm.

Loitering beside the arena, their giggles echoing down into its vacancy, Heather had become more captivated in fanning the spark between Hiccup and Astrid than in her usual sparring time.  Astrid, however, felt disquieted by the ease that came with talking to Heather and felt equally disquieted by her desire to talk about Hiccup for hours on end, filling Heather’s time with redundant and frankly  _ useless _ explanations of what he inspired in her, feeling she had known him her whole life through when in reality, the Astrid of yesterday didn’t even know his hair was auburn.

If she allowed herself to give into the little pleasures, she might not be able to pull herself free. It was settled in her mind: focus was the top priority on such an insouciant-untroubled by the worries of past, present, or future-island.

“Look, are us shield-maidens going to spar or talk about boys all day?” prodded Astrid, shepherding Heather into the direction Astrid was hoping to go, and Heather shrugged, compliant with Astrid’s guidance.

“Alright, fine. I’ll let you off the hook  _ this time _ , Astrid, but I will have all the gory details eventually.”

Having raised her hands in surrender, Heather sang one last teasing comment before dropping down gracefully into the chasmed arena, caring not for the stairs, and flashing a motherly gaze over her shoulder to make sure Astrid was still following behind as she led Astrid to the weapons display, leaning against the wall casually while Astrid thumbed each axe purposefully. 

Having picked up several and given each a twirl, she eventually settled for a smaller yet more accurate axe, the leather of its handle having been made with care, and nodded to Heather that she was content. Heather, obviously holding great pride over the double-bladed axe she had crafted by her own hands (only needing a few guiding pointers along the way), handed Astrid her axe to admire and the girls spent several moments confiding in each other the benefits and drawbacks they saw in each axe before challenging each other to a duel.

Nearly an hour passed under the light of the morning sun, the time filled with sparring matches that often ended in a draw and target practice, the lightness of Astrid’s specific choice doing wonders for her as she struck bullseye after bullseye, Heather praising her aim.

And so the girls enjoyed one another's company-sometimes another's presence and laughter enough to blink the time by-before Snotlout strode confidently into the arena, deeming the weapon’s display a worthy place to lean and flex his arm, waiting for the girls to notice his manly presence.

When several minutes passed without either of them acknowledging him, he cleared his throat and spoke, his voice carrying across the arena, striking the wall, and bouncing back as a second Snotlout.

“While I hate to disturb two lovely ladies sparring, sweat glistening across their unblemished skin-”

“What do you want, Snotlout?” interrupted Heather huffily, having little time for the antics of Snotlout, as she turned to face him, rested her axe on her shoulder indignantly, and scowled at him, Astrid landing another bullseye when she propelled her axe to the target. 

Heather’s intimidating scowl was only met with one of equal displeasure from Snotlout and he threw himself from the weapon’s display to cross his arms in resolution, tipping his nose up into the air haughtily.

“I am  _ here _ because Hiccup says it’s my turn with Blondie.”

Heather’s brow collapsed into a perplexed crease as Astrid strode to Heather’s side, flashing her gaze between the two Riders in interest, and Heather curved her body to look at Astrid in bemusement, Astrid only shrugging her shoulders to explain she had as little knowledge on the subject as Heather did.

“So Hiccup said what?” clarified Heather, looking again at Snotlout, his head still pompously poised.

“Hiccup said that it was my turn with-aren’t you on for laundry?”

Snotlout quickly tried to change the tide of the conversation, assuming he’d have better luck at getting his way if he diverted the attention away from him and onto Heather, and abandoned his jeering gaze on Heather to flash Astrid his best attempt at a boyish smile holding as much charm as the dead.

Heather grimaced and spun her axe closed, sheathing it in the clasp on her back before striding toward Snotlout resolutely, driving her nail against the yielding skin of his arm, his nose twitching in irritation when her nail left an indent.

“Yeah, I am on for laundry, but Hiccup knows I’ll actually  _ do  _ my job so he doesn’t have to nag me to do it all day, unlike some muttonheads I could mention.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say it, but Fishlegs really is dragging the group down,” waved off Snotlout, striding roughly past Heather as she snarled quietly, her disgust clear, and drew Astrid by his side, holding her wrist as he strutted out of the arena, ignoring Astrid’s rushed apology over her shoulder to Heather when Heather crossed her arms disgruntledly, “So Blondie, allow me to give you a tour of the island that I basically built from the ground up. Well, at least a tour of all the important parts because no one cares about people like Hiccup and Fishlegs, their lives drier than yak dung.”

Astrid said nothing, just releasing a puff of laughter when Heather’s earlier explanations seemed to fly in the face of Snotlout’s certainty that Dragon’s Edge was his dominion.

“So to begin my thrilling tour, let me introduce you to the Snot Lair, in other words my house-sometimes described as the  _ ultimate  _ man cave-because  _ duh _ ,” boasted Snotlout, strutting across several platforms and shimmying up the ladders that connected each subsequent level spanning the sea stacks and cliffside that made up the living quarters of the Edge while continuing to describe the supposed majesty of his hut until they reached the final platform that encased it, Hookfang basking in the midday sun and swishing his tail as they approached.

With hands on his hips and puffed chest, Snotlout breathed in the untainted island breeze giggling around them and beamed, stretching one arm up to present the obvious pride of his life, Astrid following the trajectory of his arm.

“Behold The Snot Lair, marked with a definitive ‘S’ for-”

“Snotlout? Nice touch,” finished Astrid for him, giving a spin to admire the way his house mimicked the majesty of Hookfang’s wingspan, and Snotlout beamed animatedly, exhilarated when she appreciated the symbol all the other Riders ridiculed his vanity for.

“Exactly! It  _ is  _ a nice touch!” he reassured himself, nodding in certainty, before continuing, his hands waving lazily around as if nothing held as much importance as the symbol that marked his home, “So this is my main house, painted to beautiful perfection to look like Hookie and I-the best Rider on the island-and that is my emergency water storage for the days Hookfang decides to randomly set things on fire.”

Upon hearing his name, Hookfang peeled his sleepy eyes open, his eyelids sticking slightly, and let his tongue flop out of his mouth at Astrid happily before glowering at Snotlout (as if trying to communicate ‘see what I’m burdened with?’). Astrid just winked playfully at the great beast, slightly surprised that Monstrous Nightmares appeared much lazier than their muscle tone indicated.

Snotlout breathed in deep again, his ego grinning wider than his face at Astrid while she raised a hand over her eyes when the sun was already high in the sky to scan the island from Snotlout’s view.

“I mean, I think it's obvious that my house is the best-in all honesty, I think it's the ‘S’ effect-but I suppose I can show you everyone else’s,” continued Snotlout hurriedly, bounding forward to stand at her side when he saw her taking in the rest of the island, pointing briskly at several different buildings decorating the topography, most hardly visible from the nook Snotlout had snuggled his hut into, “So Fishface’s poorly decorated hut is there, that’s the training arena in the center, the twins are over there so they can keep their weirdness separate from the collective, that’s the Clubhouse, obviously then comes my house as the most majestic, stupid Hiccup is there with his totally  _ unepic  _ hut, and Heather is beyond that. That concludes the tour!”

Astrid blinked, looking momentarily at Snotlout’s toothy grin, uncertain whether he was being legitimate about the conclusion of the tour. With the same speed as Odin’s wrathful lightning strikes, Astrid had been left little time to thoroughly understand the layout of the island and a scorned voice called out from below.

“That is hardly a  _ tour _ , Snotlout!” 

Leaning forward with caution, both Astrid and Snotlout peered over the wooden edge of the platform to see Fishlegs squinting up at them. While Astrid smiled and waved politely, Snotlout glared and sneered.

“It’s a good enough tour, Fishface!”

“You know, Astrid, I functioned as a tour guide for the children of Berk before we moved to the Edge,” boasted Fishlegs, placing his large hands on his hips and nodding his head to agree with his own statement, “They would ride on the gentle back of my Meaty as I taught them the history of-”

“No one asked, Fishlegs,” whined Snotlout pitifully, stomping his foot in his ill-tempered disposition, “I’m showing Astrid my ‘S’!”

“That bent hunk of metal?”

“Hiccup said it’s my turn with Astrid!” retorted Snotlout, Hookfang snorting in supposed amusement at his Rider’s distress, and Astrid smiled awkwardly between the two boys, uncertain how to breach the petty squabble arising between them.

“Well, Hiccup just told me it could be my turn with Astrid so I’m going to give her a proper tour!” declared Fishlegs, looking at Astrid excitedly, “You can even ride on my Meaty, if you’d like! I always warned the children of Berk that yes, she waddles and that can take time to adjust to, but she’d never let you fall off!”

“Can you believe this guy?” snorted Snotlout, sniggering to Astrid and jerking his thumb toward Fishlegs, “To think you’d want to abandon the glory of my ‘S’ to go on some interactive tour of the Edge!”

Astrid attempted to smile supportively at Snotlout, her efforts frankly pitiful as she bit down her lip tentatively and squeezed her thin arms tighter to herself as if she thought making herself small enough was equivalent to ceasing to exist.

While the  _ last  _ thing she desired was to form a rift with any of the Riders-blending in the best approach to achieve success-she was also interested in learning about more than the symbol decorating Snotlout’s house, hoping she could squeeze more information about the Dragon Master from Fishlegs, especially since Fishlegs seemed enthralled with Hiccup’s feats.

“Well, if Hiccup  _ did say  _ that it was Fishlegs turn,” she murmured gently, unwilling to stir a pot she wasn’t ready to cook and looking at Fishlegs’ triumphant smirk, “I mean, I wouldn’t want to defy authority?”

Snotlout scoffed, his eyebrows knitted in disdain, and crossed his arms, but Astrid sensed no  _ real  _ contempt from the boy. She was quickly learning that there were few things that didn’t displease Snotlout, but the boy had grown accustomed to rarely getting his own way-though if Heather was to be believed, Snotlout held a tighter grip on reality than they possibly realized and most of his confidence was a mask for insecurity.

“I would hardly deem Hiccup an  _ authority  _ figure around here, but fine. Go wander The Grove of Boringness with Slow and Very Slow. See if I even care, ‘cause I don’t care at all.”

Snotlout turned his head away disdainfully from Astrid and tipped his nose up, his eyes closed as if he could hardly  _ bear  _ to see her, but Astrid moved forward to reassuringly pat his arm.

“Don’t worry, Snotlout, nothing could outshine your ‘S’. It makes your house the best decorated by far and I’m glad you showed me it.”

Astrid smiled when Snotlout looked at her again, surprise found in his wide eyes, and while she couldn’t help but agree with Fishlegs that it really  _ was  _ just a bent piece of metal, she aimed to get along with all the Riders and if that meant appreciating a hunk of metal then she would appreciate it. However, Astrid was focussed on Fishlegs now and all that mattered to him so she turned away from Snotlout and slid with ease down the ladder, falling in step with Fishlegs and ignorant to the suspicious glance Snotlout tossed her from behind as Fishlegs led her away.

Fishlegs led Astrid several paces down the platform before speaking, certain they were out of earshot of Snotlout by now.

“I’ll give you a more thorough tour,” assured Fishlegs confidently, adjusting his helmet proudly, “So where would you like to begin?”

“Uh,” buzzed Astrid, looking around the Edge as if she were truly thinking about where she wanted to begin and not how to pry any information Fishlegs could offer her from his throat, “Why don’t we just start with you? Snotlout showed me his space. Why don’t you show me yours?”

Fishlegs grinned, dancing from foot to foot in his thrill to flaunt his designated home on the Edge, and Meatlug gurgled behind him cheerily-just happy her Rider was happy-before waddling behind them clumsily, Fishlegs chattering incessantly about how much he hoped she loved it as he led her back down to the earth, his hut lower than all the other Riders homes.

“You see, when Hiccup was first designing the blueprint of the Edge, all the rest of our ideas sparking disagreement,” explained Fishlegs when they drew near to his quaint home, “Hiccup offered me this section of land because it’s very secluded-much quieter than any other area of the Edge-and thrives as a place for me to enjoy moments of peace, since a sanctuary in which to meditate is of  _ prime  _ importance to me. So Hiccup helped me build my hut here, the terrain ideal for my topiaries, rock garden, and Zen time overlooking the sea!”

Astrid smiled encouragingly as she followed Fishlegs to his hut, applauding the purple and yellow circles adorning the surface of the wood as they passed, the view of the ocean indeed holding more serenity than any of the others.

Beckoning her forward, Fishlegs led Astrid to the section of his space accessorized with shrubs and a calm pond with several flat rocks poking above its surface, but Astrid paid little attention to it when she watched Toothless shoot across the peaceful sky, following his trajectory and watching him land on the platform encompassing the Clubhouse. Hiccup’s movements were barely visible from where Astrid stood but she squinted to watch him slip from the saddle and move into the Clubhouse, Toothless shaking out his wings before bounding along behind.

Astrid let her mind entertain what he might be doing-uncertain he had truly slept well apart from his bed last night when he had given her no answer of where he would sleep-and if it was important to the Riders resistance against Viggo’s growing power across the sea. 

While Hiccup seemed busy, the others seemed to be enjoying a day to themselves, and Astrid felt an itch in her soul to abandon Fishlegs in search of answers regarding the Dragon Master, but she refused to scratch it, the slow and steady serving her better in an instance as precarious as this one was proving itself to be. Astrid had forsaken any attempt to deny her growing hunger to learn more about the Dragon Master-about  _ Hiccup _ -but she wasn’t  _ just  _ wooing him; Astrid had to woo all of the Riders, meld into their normal so that she simply became background, all of her movements passing unnoticed. Ryker said he would give her a fortnight to settle and it had taken the Riders nearly a week to find her, meaning she only had a week to become as a part of their group as she could. 

Viggo hadn’t  _ prepared  _ her for the other Riders and while she knew they existed, she had been too preoccupied with thoughts of the Dragon Master to consider the setbacks other Riders would cause, their presence making the waters leading to her success murkier than she was used to.

“Would you be interested?”

Astrid turned away from the Clubhouse, Hiccup and his Night Fury long disbanded from her gaze, to look at Fishlegs and berated herself from within-noting that she really had to work on thinking and listening at the same time, something that never used to be a problem when she only had one focused target-when she got lost in the enigma that was the Dragon Master  _ again _ . She couldn’t pin it-whether it be the mystery, the fortitude against all of her tactics, or perhaps just the way he held himself-but the boy had her spinning and she disliked it. She was supposed to be the one spinning the web, not the one being spun.

“Oh, yes! Of course,” lied Astrid, praying she wasn’t agreeing with something she couldn’t follow through with, and Fishlegs clapped his hands enthusiastically while releasing an odd kind of trill that made Astrid clench her eyes shut, the pitch frighteningly high.

“Oh, you  _ won’t  _ regret this, Astrid! Meditation seeps into one's very soul, allowing them to cleanse all their chakras of guilt, lies, and deception. It’s truly a relieving experience.”

Astrid forced herself to smile, wondering if any extent of meditation-even meditation from the gods themselves-could cleanse a soul as lost to the art of deception as hers, but Fishlegs was elated so Astrid followed his lead, quickly learning she had agreed to let him lead her through a basic meditation session. Unable to back out of her word, Astrid plastered a thrilled gaze across her face and crossed her legs on the small rock he had assigned her on the edge of the pond. Astrid felt ridiculous-never imagining herself as a meditated person who gained inner peace in their oneness of body and soul-but still tried to follow the directions as Fishlegs gave them, unable to abandon her hope that perhaps this experience really  _ would _ leave her feeling relieved and cleansed.

“Just let yourself breathe- _ truly breathe _ -and feel the life the air carries penetrate your soul.”

Astrid peeked her eye open for a moment, despite Fishlegs insistence that one couldn’t align themselves unless they tuned out the entropy of the world, and found herself wondering what Fishlegs even  _ meant  _ by ‘feeling the life the air carried penetrate her soul’. She was legitimately trying to meditate all the shit that had built up in her chakras out of her soul, the action seeming so easy for Fishlegs, but she couldn’t resist a second glance at the Clubhouse, no sign of the Dragon Master present on the platform, before clamping her eyes shut again. Astrid attempted to focus  _ extra hard  _ on opening her throat chakra (responsible for the lies that spilled from her mouth like Changewing acid) when the urge to wipe herself off began to rise in her as the steam of Meatlug’s lava in the pond coated her skin in a sticky mixture of water and sweat.

While she could believe that this was a relaxing experience for Fishlegs, especially when he was stuck with such opposing personalities from him like the twins and Snotlout, she couldn’t help but harbor dislike for the silence, the peace. 

Astrid had lived a life of danger on the treacherous seas-the ocean guaranteeing love for  _ no  _ sailor-all while facing the risk of being caught in the web of lies she spun so eloquently, the weight of how precarious her missions were always prevalent, and Astrid held little hope that some light meditation was going to solve her endlessly active heart and soul. She needed to move; she needed to feel a certain level of speed, spontaneity, thrill.

While most people feared walking unknown terrain in the dark, Astrid had grown to crave the lightheadedness that unaccompanied the unknown, the darkness not something she feared but rather a reminder that there was so much more to  _ discover _ . If she settled for the known, she wouldn’t remain sane, that much she knew. If she admitted that her life was an endless circle of Viggo then she wouldn’t make it, but as long as there was another step into the black, she held hope. If that meant reaching an inevitable cliff, her foot meeting air instead of earth, she’d rather fall exploring the unknown than never fall because she was clinging to the colorless, lifeless, spiritless known.

“Are you feeling that, Astrid? This wind is  _ perfect  _ for opening one’s chakras,” confirmed Fishlegs, his nose turning up at the breeze.

“And that’s just my wind, Fishlegs.”

Both Fishlegs and Astrid opened their eyes at the third voice, soon discovering that Tuffnut had bent himself over to present his rear end to Fishlegs face and Ruffnut was using the ends of his vest to waft the scent of Tuff’s flatulence toward Fishlegs with a malicious chortle. 

Fishlegs clapped a hand over his mouth and nose, unable to help himself from gagging, before promptly splashing his face with the freshwater of the pond as if that might cleanse him from the putrid smell, and Astrid watched as the twins high-fived and giggled, surprising herself by how relieved she was to see them, Fishlegs meditation pushing her closer toward insanity with every passing minute.

“You two have no respect for-” hissed Fishlegs, seething with anger, but Tuffnut just waved his hand flippantly in Fishlegs’ direction, apathetic toward the larger boy’s rage.

“We know,” interrupted Tuffnut carelessly, rubbing at his nose, “but Hiccup said it's our turn with her Astridlyness.”

“No, he didn’t,” argued Fishlegs, still situated on his rock but angrily lashing his arm out at Tuffnut’s knees and missing, “I haven’t finished my tour!”

“Well you meditate, you abdicate!” responded Tuffnut swiftly, clicking his tongue as if Fishlegs should’ve known better, before Ruffnut rushed to clarify her brother’s statement, talking down to Fishlegs as if he held little wit.

“As in you abdicate your right to her Astridlyness.”

“Well, Astrid is happy right where she is, right?” proclaimed Fishlegs assuredly, looking to Astrid, and she smiled sheepishly, the water clinging to her skin like scavengers to a carcass growing increasingly maddening, but Tuffnut rushed to speak before she could, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees as he batted his long feathery eyelashes at Fishlegs.

“Well, our  _ interminably  _ just Hiccy said it was our turn,” he crooned, nodding his head when Fishlegs sucked in his bottom lip and shook his head defiantly, “I mean, you wouldn’t want me to have to go back to your precious Hiccup and tell him you, of all people, defied his wishes, would you?”

Fishlegs gasped, looking around as if Hiccup were already preparing to banish the boy from all he knew and loved, before scowling and attempting to hit Tuffnut again, the leaner boy watching with amusement when Fishlegs missed him for a second time.

“You  _ wouldn’t _ !” barked Fishlegs irritatedly, but Tuffnut just batted his eyelashes again.

“Oh, my dear Fish Out Of Water... _ I would _ .”

Astrid watched the interaction with attentive curiosity and pondered whether she should be so amused by such cruelty, but the twins were captivating her. Earlier she would’ve pinned them as silly, carelessly clever, but the more she analyzed them, the more she was certain they had Fishlegs right where they wanted him.

“You leave me no choice,” sighed Tuffnut defeatedly, “I suppose I’ll have to burden Hiccup’s busy schedule with-”

“No, don’t bother him!” conceded Fishlegs, his anger having been replaced with pious pouting, “Just take her! Hiccup has enough on his saddle without-”

“Yep, we got it covered from here,” interrupted Ruffnut, obviously not listening to Fishlegs’ council as she jerked Astrid forcibly from the small rock she had been situated on, nearly plunging Astrid into the watery trap surrounding her while Tuffnut smirked and cracked his knuckles.

Wrapping a firm arm tightly around Astrid’s neck, Ruffnut pulled Astrid’s cheek to her shoulder, the rancidity of fish oil unbelievably strong on Ruffnut, and Astrid could hardly walk properly from the awkward hold.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, A,” hissed Ruffnut mischievously, continuing to keep Astrid tight against her shoulder despite Astrid’s squished mumbles that it was uncomfortable, “we would never actually tell good old H that, but-”

“It works like an amulet on Fish of the Legs, much as a block of ice heals a stab wound,” concluded Tuffnut with a snigger, pulling Astrid free of Ruffnut and letting her get a gasp of air before wrapping his own arm tightly around her neck, her cheek now squished against his much bonier shoulder.

“Uh, a block of ice typically isn’t applicable to a-” murmured Astrid, her words deformed from squished cheeks and her gaze instinctually moving toward the cloudless sky as Toothless shot across its expanse, moving at incredible speed out to sea. Astrid let herself wonder again what Hiccup could possibly be doing that required such repetitive travel before Tuffnut interrupted her rudely.

“Now let me guess, you’ve spent the whole day doing boring things with the other Riders. No need to tell me, I already know I function in The-Land-of-The-Correct,” affirmed Tuffnut, walking Astrid past the deserted arena Astrid felt she had  _ just  _ been sparring in toward a distant sea stack, before Ruffnut pulled her free of Tuffnut’s grasp again, assuming the same position as before, Astrid’s cheeks squished and swarmed with fish oil.

“So basically, it’s our time to show you  _ real  _ fun,” pronounced Ruffnut, delighted before even offering any specifications.

“And that fun is?” asked Astrid distractedly, attempting to discreetly look at Hiccup again, just a speck in the sky already, and failing miserably when she realized both twins had noticed her preoccupation with the black dot staining the pure sky.

“I see you admire the flight of The One-Legged Dictator With A Weak Chin,” observed Tuffnut, elbowing his sister and stroking his chin as if he had a beard to boast of.

“The what?” questioned Astrid, simulating the illusion she just happened to look at the sky, but Ruffnut grinned, tapping her fingers together as Astrid imagined a child might prepare to sneak a honey buttered hunk of bread from the jar.

“Oh, that’s what we call Hiccup. Along with H, Hiccy, Boss Man, Sir Talks-A-Lot, Lord Hiccup, Tyrant, and El Jefe,” elucidated Ruffnut, counting each of them out on her willowy fingers.

“You forgot ‘Malnourished Runt with Bad Hair, Strange Teeth, and a Twig for a Neck’ as well as ‘One-legged Enigma Crammed in a Riddle and Stylishly Jacketed in a Mystery’, though perhaps those are only upon special occasions,” added Tuffnut, contemplating the matter as he eyed the sky domed above him before abandoning any further thought he could put into it to look at Astrid impishly, scanning her as if he had failed to identify her inner rascal earlier, “What exactly do you want to know? The Thorston Twins love a good game of ‘Rat Out The Rider’ so we’re down if you’re down.”

Astrid raised her eyebrows in incredulity, not entirely expecting information to be handed to her on a silver platter like this, and shrugged, willing to gamble as long as the twins were equally willing to play their hands.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” she hummed waggishly, tipping her chin up and parting her lips as the twins shared a side smile, “I’ll start you off simple. Tell me what he’s like. You call him tyrannical, a boss. Why?”

Astrid was firm in her verbal assault. While she was no manipulative wordsmith like Viggo, Astrid had developed a tongue of her own and clutched her cards carefully yet teasingly, drawing the twins in, wanting as much information as she could get her hands on without sacrifice.

“Simple. He’s positively the worst. We all hated him,” quipped Tuffnut, tipping his head back slightly, and Astrid stood taller, unsatisfied with the response given when Tuff kept his cards close to his chest, believing being blunt held far greater potency than long-winded eloquence.

Eager for some action, Ruffnut leaned forward slightly, her hair falling over her shoulders and reiterated Tuffnut’s statement.

“Hated,” she whispered, nodding, but Astrid wrinkled her brow and pressed in further. 

“You said hated. Why the usage of past-tense?”

“In the  _ past _ , Hiccup was the greatest disappointment Berk had seen in generations,” conceded Tuffnut, twirling his hands around gracefully, “First of all, he was the tiniest runt you’d ever seen-fifteen years old and couldn’t even hold a sword with two hands, had to cradle it like a flattened babe-and secondly, he brought disaster with him as if it were his shadow. He’d get in weekly scraps with Monstrous Nightmares, but you’ll remember he couldn’t wield a sword so someone else would have to risk life and limb ending the scraps he continuously started. There were even rumors of changing the Chiefly house, an act of treason if caught. There hasn’t been a Chief that  _ wasn’t  _ a Haddock in generations, but votes were to be cast as to whether Snotlout should take up the Chiefly bane instead of Hiccup.”

Astrid listened attentively, imagining the messes Hiccup must’ve managed to get himself into that Vikings-as loyal a people as you can find-would dare suggest ripping the mantle of Chief from him.

“Yet now he commands your following as leader of the Edge,” observed Astrid, twitching an eyebrow challengingly, “What changed that the ‘runt’ you deemed insubstantial suddenly wrangled your respect and camaraderie?”

“Fair question,” interjected Ruffnut, sniffing and circling Astrid, “It began a long time ago; as in, it began five years ago, in Dragon Training. Hiccup The Runt suddenly became Hiccup The Hunk when, with no explanation, he had a kind of  _ way  _ with the dragons. They would listen to him, fear him,  _ obey him _ .”

Astrid cocked her head in interest, her nose twitching in slight repugnance at the idea of Ruffnut calling Hiccup a  _ hunk _ , and Ruffnut continued.

“He soon became a famed figure throughout the village, everyone wanting to see  _ The Dragon Master  _ at work. Even his father, who was at his wits end with Hiccup, praised his abilities, carrying his son through the streets and assuring the scorned Jorgenson’s that Hiccup would mount his first Gronckle head on a spear  _ long  _ before Snotlout could even dream of it.”

“That is...until our beloved Hiccup’s world went to shit,” purred Tuffnut, and Astrid found herself enthralled with the story, the depth of Hiccup seeming infinite the more the twins told of him.

“Hated, adored, then hated again?” murmured Astrid thoughtfully, raking her tongue over the back of her teeth, “Sounds like our Hiccup was riding emotions more than he was dragons.”

“You see, turns out our Dragon Hero,” continued Ruffnut lowly, winking at Astrid, “was so knowledgeable because he had been training a Night Fury in Berk’s forest-lined backyard. Well...when Chiefty found out, he had the beast caged and used to find The Nest of The Dragons. And what of our dear Hiccup? Well, he found himself disowned, Stoick declaring that Hiccup was neither Viking nor his son, having tossed his lot in with the winged beasts, so the rumors sing.”

Astrid’s throat clenched suddenly, a pain surging through her chest when a vision of heartbroken green eyes seared across her mind, but Tuffnut tore her from the chasm of her mind, his voice much lighter than before.

“Oh, shit, yeah! I forgot about that! Is that legally binding?” inquired Tuffnut to no one in particular, but Ruffnut continued steadfastly, showing little care for the laws Tuffnut seemed bothered with.

“However, Hiccup knew dragons far better than any of us had ever dreamed. His dad wasn’t just sailing to The Nest; he was sailing to his doom.”

“Indeed, turns out that all dragons respond to an alpha-a dragon who controls the will of all other dragons beneath it,” added Tuffnut, pointing his finger in the air, “Hiccup knew this and knew that The Red Death, the alpha, was ten  _ thousand  _ times the size of the brawniest man. So, after Snotlout and Heather kinda dragged Hiccup from his grief-”

“Yeah, in hindsight, we really didn’t let Hiccup grieve. I mean, did Stoick ever even apologize?” hummed Ruffnut thoughtfully, but Tuffnut waved her off, snapping his fingers.

“Hiccup trained all of the dragons of the arena-the dragons we ride to this day-in under ten minutes so that we could save- _ literally _ save-the entire population of Berk.  _ Boom _ . Of course, in the end, Hiccup defeated The Red Death because him and Toothless really are  _ unbelievably  _ skilled and kinda lost his leg, but still. I think you get the point.”

Astrid blinked, considering voicing a complaint that the end was rushed and poorly explained, but Tuffnut spoke again, cracking his back and grinning.

“In summation, your Astridlyness, Hiccup was the worst.”

Settling for what she had been given, Astrid waved a poised hand as if skipping to the end of the book, less concerned with the means and more concerned with the results.

“Right, okay, fine. What about now though?”

“Oh, you wanted to know about  _ now _ ?” thrummed Tuffnut, crossing his arms and dropping his jaw open into an oval, tipping his head back as if understanding were a tangible force pushing against his forehead, “Well in that case, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Astrid considered a response, running her tongue along the front of her teeth, her top lip bulging, but was redirected when Ruffnut pointed at her, eyeing Astrid in thorough interest.

“What do  _ you  _ think Hiccup is like?”

Astrid shrugged as she considered the question. It was simple enough and yet profoundly multi-faceted. Every story she had been told seemed to leave her with more questions than answers; he was stern yet soft-hearted; heartless yet compassionate; stocky yet lean; tall with fair hair yet short and possessing raven black locks.

Astrid had hoped that meeting the Dragon Master would clear all misconceptions she had, used to men who were unspeakably linear, yet meeting Hiccup had proven that the parabolas of the stories she heard were  _ nothing  _ compared to reality.

Hiccup was functioning in the fifth dimension-seemingly linear while parabolic in the background and yet suddenly sigmoidal, hyperbolic, cubic, and anything else she could imagine all while not even being applicable to any sort of graph!

Astrid was asked what  _ she  _ thought Hiccup was like but she hardly knew where to begin. Should she describe the way he set her aflame? The way he commanded respect as the moon commands the tide and yet does not  _ demand  _ that respect but rather earns it? Or should she perhaps explain the way his laugh danced around her skull, his playful banter with Snotlout more attractive than any masculine description the traders of The Northern Markets could conjure?

Everything Astrid thought Hiccup was like seemed far too personal to share with the twins. While she believed their mischief to be harmless rather than malignant, she wouldn’t dare share with them the flutterings of her heart for a man she had-to their knowledge-known for less than a day.

So she deemed the stories she had heard as suitable a place to start as anywhere.

“Well, I know very little, but he seems to be brave and self-assured,” began Astrid, searching deep in her memory for Trader Johann’s other, less obsessive words to describe the Dragon Master, but it proved itself a futile exercise when she failed to finish her description, the twins silencing her with piercing squeals of laughter.

Astrid frowned, put out by the brash interruption, but the twins laughter was uncontrollable and Tuffnut was left gasping for air as he clutched at his quaking sides, Ruffnut wheezing that ‘oh Thor, it hurts’, and Astrid crossed her arms insecurely, unsure why they would even ask her if her answer was to be the object of their ridicule.

So dampened was her spirit, Astrid considered rolling her eyes and walking away, certain she could learn the nooks of Hiccup without the help of the twins, but Tuffnut breathed in deep and reached a trembling hand out her, seeming to get a grip on reality once his laughter was safely caged back in his stomach.

“Sorry, A,” croaked Tuffnut, panting for air and standing up tall again while he blinked away the tears that had formed in his eyes, “We mean not to mock you. In all honesty, we laugh more at the idea of Hiccup as  _ self-assured _ , so I’ll give you a scoop of yak dung tea. Our Hiccup is many things: one could paint him as jaw-droppingly intelligent, packing a punch stronger than one might assume when analyzing his scrawniness, a leader, a strategist, observant, protective in nature, awkward, unspeakably sarcastic, possessing dry humor.”

Tuffnut paused dramatically, sniffing and wrapping an arm around Astrid’s shoulder again before nodding as if agreeing with his words before he said them.

“All these things lend themselves true, but above all else...Hiccup Haddock is reticent and secretive.”

Astrid twitched her eyebrow, slightly disappointed when she expected so much more from the buildup Tuffnut exhibited, and Ruffnut clasped her hands and nodded.

“This does prove itself true,” she concurred, pointing at the sky and following the trajectory, Astrid’s eyes doing the same, of Toothless as he floated across the sky, returning from sea to the Clubhouse once more, “Let me explain. Since no one really  _ liked  _ Hiccup, he wasn’t boasting a swarm of friends around him, thus he developed a natural tendency to keep to himself. As a child, as a teenager, and now as an adult, Hiccup doesn’t readily share his thoughts and ideas. To clarify, while we function-in flight, in duties, etcetera-as a tightly-knit family, Hiccup typically keeps his expressions inward, enjoying the protection that comes from being by himself.”

“If one were to ask the learned Tuffnut Laverne,” announced Tuffnut regally, rolling his ‘r’s when he hopped onto a rock to present his opinions, “then they would know that Tuffnut Laverne’s deductions indicate that Hiccup has never been fully understood by anyone, really. While our Haddock friend keeps to himself, he also functions as the thread that continuously weaves the Edge and the Riders together. Tuffnut Laverne doubts that any of the Riders would know each other, let alone be friends, if it weren’t for Hiccup. Hiccup is increasingly complex yet still unbelievably simple, unwilling to diverge from the set beliefs he holds above all else. There is an unexplored map that lies behind his eyes and much can be learned from El Jefe, if one has the tenacity to search for it.”

“And you’ve searched for it?” whispered Astrid, unable to stop herself from stepping closer to Tuffnut’s pulpit, her interest in Hiccup billowing plumes in her soul the more she learned. 

“Oh, hell no!” laughed Tuffnut suddenly, hopping down from the rock and picking at his teeth, “Hiccup is still very much a mystery to all of us.”

“He is an exceptional leader, though we’d  _ never _ tell him that ‘cause we have a reputation to maintain, and possesses many immeasurably valuable qualities,” added Ruffnut, waving her hand to encourage Astrid to follow her when she began walking again, “We’ve described his humility, intelligence, gracious mannerism, blah blah blah. However, he is still  _ human _ -if you can believe it from the sight of him. As such, the opposite end of the spectrum proves Lord Hiccup to frequently let his insecurities cloud his judgements and thus his actions. He can also be hypercompetitive-becoming more arrogant than even Snotlout-especially if it has to do with his ability as Future Chief of Berk, you’ll note that is potentially his greatest insecurity. One can also peg Lord H as too compassionate for his own good and is easily the  _ worst Viking known to man  _ for thinking too highly of people, thus making both him and us easy targets for manipulation and exploitation. Hiccup still believes there are admirable qualities to be found in Alvin the Treacherous, despite the fact our good ol’ Al nearly executed Hiccup... _ multiple times _ .”

Astrid swallowed to mask her trembling breaths, certain Viggo knew that particular weakness long before weaving Astrid into the tapestry, and felt her guilt claw at the confines of her chest. 

Squeezing information out of someone wasn’t exactly an ideal career, Astrid knew, but it felt so much  _ dirtier _ to use someone’s weakness to bring them to their knees,  _ just  _ to say you won. Especially when there was such  _ beauty  _ to be found in compassion, trust, mercy.

“You say Hiccup’s a mystery to you all, yet you seem to know a lot about him,” probed Astrid, clapping a lid on her guilt and burying it deep within her to silence its screams, but Tuffnut shook his head.

“What you don’t understand is that’s  _ barely _ scratching the surface with El Jefe. We just find enjoyment in being observant, that’s all.”

Ruffnut yawned and stretched, blinking lazily.

“I’m tired of ‘Rat Out The Rider’,” she confessed, and Tuffnut nodded in agreement, “I think it’s time for that which holds the utmost importance on the  _ entire  _ Edge.”

“Wait, but-” rushed Astrid, still feeling she held so many unanswered questions, but she could only suck in air when Ruffnut pushed her roughly over the edge of a large pit, Astrid landing deftly and preparing to reach for her axe before grimacing at the several inches of mud seeping around her boots.

“Say hola to the Boar Pit!” bellowed Tuffnut, both twins hopping down after Astrid while Tuffnut nearly wiped out in the slick mud that coated the bottom and sides of the medium-sized pit.

“Do I want to know what the functionality of a boar pit is?” asked Astrid cautiously, scanning her surroundings tentatively, but Tuffnut only chuckled, rubbing his hands together as he slid skillfully over to a thick wooden door on the far side of the pit and placed his hand on a lever right beside the scratched door.

“Basically, Your Astridlyness, your job is to wrestle as many boars as possible,” elucidated Tuffnut, rubbing his nose as Ruffnut hunkered beside Astrid, pivoting her foot in the sticky mud, and Astrid looked at him skeptically.

“Wrestle them?”

“You’ll figure it out on the job,” assured Ruffnut, widening her stance and seeping a venomous look into the orbs of her blue eyes.

Astrid opened her mouth in question, but Tuffnut wasted no more time on her, pressing firmly on the lever, the door swinging wide.

“If I place this just slightly to the left,” breathed Hiccup, steadying his hand as he lowered his small tongs, hoping that his 37th attempt would lend him greater luck that the previous 36 times, and preparing to line up the miniscule screw perfectly, “Okay...and-”

Holding his breath, certain he had lined it up perfectly, Hiccup prepared to place the screw before someone jerked his shoulder roughly and sent the screw clattering across the room, Hiccup squawking as he watched it bounce before whirling around to scowl at the perpetrator.

“Snotlout!”

“Why did you tell  _ Fishface  _ that it was his turn to hang out with the babe?”

Hiccup blinked and passive aggressively tossed his tongs onto the table beside Toothless’ tail fin, the large dragon looking up at Hiccup and Snotlout playfully from the corner, before Hiccup walked to the corner to scour the ground for the lost screw.

“You know, if I have to make  _ another one  _ because of you, you’re on stable duty for at least three weeks,” threatened Hiccup while bending down onto his knees, his back complaining from how long he had been hunched over. 

Hiccup ran his hand cautiously across the wood, seeing if he could feel it, and looked along the trim, hoping it didn’t roll underneath.

“You’re concerned about your bobble?” cried Snotlout, throwing his hands up, “In a moment like this?”

“No, I’m concerned about my  _ screw _ ,” clarified Hiccup, tossing a smug grin over his shoulder when Snotlout glowered.

“I only got to be with her for like ten minutes-less!-and you told Fishface he could hang out with her!”

Heather sauntered into the Clubhouse with a stretch, sucking in a yawn, and raised an eyebrow at Snotlout.

“Well, first of all, I never said that,” began Hiccup, pressing his cheek against the wooden floor to peer underneath the trim as Heather dragged a chair noisily across the floor, flopping down into it.

“You’re fine, Snotlout,” she contributed, placing her hands behind her head as she relaxed, “The same rules apply to all of us. You took Astrid away from me on the basis that Hiccup said it was your turn so Fishlegs should get to ask Hiccup for  _ his  _ turn.”

Hiccup pulled his cheek away from the floor to run his gaze along the aligned planks again, determined to find the screw he had spent three days forging to be small enough and remaining ignorant to Snotlout and Heather’s argument.

“Also, I’m done laundry,” finished Heather, directing her final comment to Hiccup and he flashed a thumbs up, mumbling his thanks.

“Yeah, but-”

“Hiccup, why did you tell the twins it was their turn with Astrid? I had hardly even  _ begun  _ my tour of the Edge and they interrupted the invigorating meditation session Astrid and I were enjoying!”

Snotlout and Heather both turned toward Fishlegs when he entered, obviously upset while Meatlug lumbered behind him, but Hiccup remained ambivalent, still scanning the floor.

“Yeah, well, you reap what you...put...in...the ground,” stammered Snotlout, having forgotten the rest and Fishlegs scowled.

“Snotlout, by that logic, you have no reason to complain,” chuckled Heather, stretching her arms above her head again, her muscles groaning from having to hit the washing board, “because Hiccup let you steal Astrid from me!”

“Yeah, but that was different because you had Astrid for  _ hours _ ! I had her for like a minute and then Fishlegs-” defended Snotlout, tipping his nose up at Heather.

“I was giving her an  _ actual  _ tour, Snotlout! That didn’t include the bent hunk of metal that dons the front of your house!”

“Oh, ‘cause I’m sure she was just  _ thrilled _ to sit in your pee pond!” snapped Snotlout, Fishlegs scoffing and crossing his arms defiantly.

“It is  _ not  _ a pee pond. It is 100% organic water that Hiccup made a filter for-”

“Except, Fishface, I let Hookie piss in it every time we pass by!  _ Boom _ !”

“My Zen space!” cried Fishlegs, his eyes pools of horror and his hands coming up to clasp his cheeks.

“Wow, real mature, Snotlout,” quipped Heather, rolling her eyes.

“I think we have lost sight of what truly matters here,” declared Snotlout, raising his hands in surrender, “and that is the injustice I was served when Fishlegs stole Astrid from me!”

“Yes!”

Standing up again, Hiccup held up the tiny screw, his face illuminated in excitement, and grinned happily at the three Riders-Heather looking at him in confusion at the simple things that brought him such joy, Fishlegs still clasping his cheeks in horror, and Snotlout glaring at the way Hiccup interrupted him for such a pitiful discovery.

Hiccup continued to grin at them with beaming eyes, holding the screw between his thumb and forefinger, before the twins, soaked in mud, stomped to the door.

“What the Hel happened to you two?” asked Heather, grimacing at the horrible smell that clouded them like metal to an Armorwing, and Tuffnut raised a muddy hand.

“Don’t. Even. Ask.”

Following behind, Astrid stood tentatively in the doorway to The Clubhouse, equally covered in mud but much less angry, and Hiccup looked at her in amusement.

“Rough day?” he quipped, raising his eyebrow at her when she flicked some mud from her hair, and Astrid smiled playfully, forgetting for a moment she was supposed to be seducing this man rather than playfully bantering with him while she was covered in a thick coat of mud.

Before Astrid could answer, Ruffnut shook her fist at Hiccup angrily.

“Like you would not believe,” she sobbed, turning away from Hiccup again as Tuffnut kicked a crate angrily.

“I mean, I can’t even believe it,” he cried, falling to his knees, splatters of mud landing on Hiccup’s prosthetic, “Two Thorstons against one Hofferson and we  _ lost? _ ”

Hiccup looked away from Tuffnut shaking his fist to the sky to look at Astrid again, his mouth pointed downward, impressed, as he leaned against the table, crossing his arms.

“The lady beat the twins at-”

“ _ Don’t even say it _ ,” hissed Ruffnut, wiping her eyes with her muddied sleeve, “What are you some kind of... _ tyrant _ that you would rub our faces in it like that?”

Hiccup raised his hands in compliance before Tuffnut rose to his feet again.

“And yet, I must say, thine Astridlyness,” he murmured, his face splitting into a goofy smile, “You have gained the respect of the Thorston twins.”

Astrid smirked back before mumbling an apology when Fishlegs pulled away from her, the smell that flowed off the twins just as thick on her, and Hiccup watched amusedly.

“Okay, am I the only one who doesn’t care?” interjected Snotlout, Heather rolling her eyes in exasperation again, “What we  _ should  _ be talking about is-”

“The twins stole Astrid from me-” rushed Fishlegs, looking at Hiccup as he pointed at the twins who raised their hands in innocence.

“Technically,  _ all of you _ stole Astrid from me-” said Heather at the same time, pointing accusedly at Snotlout when he talked over her.

“Fishface is a thief because I was showing her a masterpiece-”

“-and then Tuff passed wind in my Zen space, without mentioning Snotlout’s actions-” continued Fishlegs angrily.

“-so I want justice, Hiccup!” finished Snotlout, Heather hopping up to call down at Snotlout from her chair.

“-plus I clean your stinky ass underwear so if anything I deserve a reward-”

“I will be honest, I sharted right in his face,” Tuffnut added, snickering with Ruffnut and Hiccup raked his gaze over each of them, their overlapping voices echoing around the domed ceiling of the Clubhouse, uncertain where to begin while surrounded by a cacophony of voices-all of them angrily directed at him.

The added energy of the room excited the dragons, Hookfang bellowing in joy at the chaos, Meatlug shaking her tail when she thought it meant it was supper time, Barf and Belch butting their heads together repeatedly, and Windshear batting her claws playfully at Hookfang.

Even Toothless hopped up excitedly, bounding around the room in a circle before hopping onto the table.

“No, Toothless! You could-” began Hiccup, raising his hands at Toothless to gain the excited dragon’s attention but when Toothless looked joyously at Hiccup, his claw slipped on his newest tailfin, sending it clattering to the floor and shattering into its separate pieces.

“Oh, come on!” cried Hiccup before angrily turning to the other Riders, all of them still yelling at each other, Astrid leaning against the doorframe and smirking at the entropy of the room.

“Alright,  _ enough! _ ”

Silenced by Hiccup’s yell, everyone froze to look at Hiccup, Barf and Belch only giving each other one more headbutt as Hiccup bent down to assess the damage of the tailfin he had spent all day assembling, sighing when he held up the bent frame.

“Oof, sorry Hiccy,” offered Tuffnut, leaning his hands on his knees as he peered down at the deformed tailfin on the floor and Heather ran a hand over her braid.

“Is it... _ wrecked  _ wrecked?” she asked tentatively but Hiccup didn’t answer, just scooping it up and placing it on the table, Toothless having climbed down in shame and whining.

Hiccup closed his eyes, took a deep breath and Astrid peeked over the Riders to watch him, seeing the way his mouth seemed to silently count to ten before he turned back around.

“Alright, I don’t really know what happened over the last half minute,” he began slowly, clasping his hands together tightly, “but did it ever cross your minds that every single one of you lied about what I said?”

They all glanced around at each other, most of them trying to hide their shame when they knew they had lied but Tuffnut just raised his hand.

“Yeah, I definitely lied. You never said it was my turn with Astrid, but I’ve been using that trick on Fishlegs before we even left Berk.”

“I don’t need your admittance to it,” muttered Hiccup, closing his eyes, shaking his head gently, and running a tired hand through his hair, “because I already know that Snotlout lied to Heather, Fish lied to Snotlout, and the twins lied to Fish.”

“Ooh, he’s good,” whispered Ruffnut, but Hiccup threw his gaze to the ceiling.

“How do I know that? Probably because I haven’t seen any of you today. So if  _ I _ haven’t seen any of  _ you _ today then none of  _ you  _ could’ve seen  _ me _ which means  _ I _ never told any of  _ you _ that if was ‘your turn’ with Astrid, as ridiculous a concept as that is,” concluded Hiccup, patting Toothless when the dragon slinked over to him to beg for forgiveness for breaking Hiccup’s invention.

“Okay, but can I have Astrid all of tomorrow morning?” rushed Snotlout, before the other Riders shot into action.

“No, sparring is best in the morning! I want her then!” hissed Heather, still standing on her chair.

“Ooh, can I have her just after lunch?” asked Fishlegs quickly, calling over Heather’s argument with Snotlout, “That’s the best Zen time!”

“No way! We called a rematch right after lunch tomorrow!” argued Ruffnut, poking Fishlegs shoulder with a muddy finger and Hiccup rolled his eyes.

“ _ Enough! _ ” he hollered again, the Riders falling silent for a second time, “You’d think she was a fucking toy! Odin above,  _ relax! _ ”

Hiccup strode forward, elbowing his way through the cloud of Riders before him to walk over to Astrid, gesturing to her slim, mud-coated frame.

“Riders, Astrid! Astrid, Riders!” he presented, scowling at them all, “Now let me provide a slight demonstration called ‘Asking Politely’; it’s a fairly new phenomenon!”

The sarcasm flowed in waves off Hiccup as he turned to Astrid with a bright smile.

Astrid smiled back, wiggling her fingers in a small wave, and noticed the space Hiccup seemed to keep between them, his hesitancy jogging her memory of the night before, her hand twitching slightly when she considered the burning sensation. 

Hiccup seemed to remember it too, his hand coming to rest on his wrist for a moment, and Astrid wondered when they might talk about it, certain they couldn’t ignore it forever. Less tired than she was last night, her heart hitched when she wondered if the sensation would persist every time she attempted to touch Hiccup. How was she supposed to woo him into loving her if she couldn’t put her hands on the boy?

Having learned from other Riders and studying him herself, she had quickly learned he was a tangible man, needing to feel the things before him, as was evident from the way he handled the tail fin he had been working on with dexterous hands.

“Hey, Astrid! You’re a real joy to be around so I was wondering if you would like to hang out with me tomorrow?” he asked her, his voice excessively bright for his demonstration and Astrid rolled her lips under her teeth to avoid laughing, placing her thoughts at the back of her mind before playing along.

“I enjoy being around you too, Hiccup. I would love to hang out with you tomorrow.”

“Oh, great! What time works best for you because I, as a fully fledged adult, can recognize that you, as a fully fledged adult, have a life and not everything is about my personal desires?” he asked her, the Riders studying the interaction from behind.

“Since I’m hanging out with Heather and Snotlout in the morning and Fishlegs and the twins in the afternoon, does early evening work for you?” offered Astrid, still resisting the urge to laugh, and Hiccup smiled, winking at her in amusement.

“That works great for me! See you then!” he finished, turning back to address the Riders, “Was that  _ so hard  _ for me to recognize her as an individual with the freedom to spend her time as she would like to spend it?”

Astrid bit down on her lip, abruptly grimacing at the taste of mud, and Hiccup placed his hands on his hips as a mother might guide her children in social etiquette.

The Riders were silent for several moments, Fishlegs and Heather looking down shamefully, and Astrid cleared her throat quietly, still resisting laughing at the way Hiccup mocked them all.

“I just have to say...I have some slight critiques regarding the way you talk to women,” vocalized Snotlout, Hiccup stomping forward to punch him in the shoulder and Snotlout hissing an ‘ow’.

“Seems fake, but okay,” concluded Tuffnut, shrugging and bolting deeper into the Clubhouse, his attention having zero capability to focus on something that long, before poking his head close to the furnace to sniff, “When is dinner? Is it yummy?”

“Careful, you’ll burn yourself,” reprimanded Heather, watching with a gaze of disapproval mixed with care as he tried to reach into the furnace, “You’re also not eating when you’re covered in mud.”

Both twins stuck their tongues out at Heather when she shooed them outside, pointing for them to go to the bath house, before rushing to clean up the puddle of mud Tuffnut had left when he had fallen to his knees.

“What is for dinner though?” asked Snotlout, sliding into a chair, and Hiccup sighed, trying to see if anything of his invention could be salvaged.

“I saw you already preparing dinner early this morning,” praised Fishlegs, trying to get a glimpse at Hiccup’s new tailfin and Hiccup sighed again, tossing it uselessly on the table.

“Yeah, I’m cooking two rounds for dinner tonight and then a chuck that I’m hoping we can ice and use for stew meat-in case the disaster that Snotlout’s dinner was yesterday should happen again.”

“Damn,” whistled Snotlout, “Pulling out the big axe for Astr-ow!”

Hiccup smacked the back of Snotlout’s head as he passed, Hiccup kneeling down to pet and soothe Toothless, mumbling something to put the dragon’s shame at ease. 

“I’m gonna go get uh...clean,” hummed Astrid, realizing her clothes were disgusting all over again, and Heather looked up and smiled.

“You can borrow my clothes again,” she offered, “but dibs out on cleaning those.”

Astrid laughed and flicked a dry mud clump from her shirt.

“I don’t blame you. I’ll wash them myself since I got them dirty.”

Astrid smiled, looking at where Toothless was now shoving his nose against Hiccup’s, Hiccup chuckling as the dragon snorted, and moved away from the Clubhouse, a smile plastered on her face.

She had to admit, while none of it had anything to do with her purpose for being here, the day had been a truly thrilling experience. A day had never been so  _ quick  _ before. She was usually looking at where the sun was at least three times a day, wishing it would just set already, but she realized she hadn’t wondered at the time once and it was nearly time for her evening meal.

She skipped a little as she moved to the bath house, noticing that the twins seemed to abandon the idea of actually cleaning themselves for something that required less work, and chewed the inside of her cheek, hoping tomorrow would be as great a day as this one was.

“Maybe Hiccup really will reserve his evening,” she mumbled to herself, slipping inside the bath house.

Peeling off her drenched clothes, she beamed, really hoping he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da!   
> So I will admit that this wasn't my proudest chapter. I still reread it and purse my lips at some parts because there are just so many places I could take it. I added then subtracted then added again and it was just ugh. So eventually I had to bite the bullet, post it, and embrace the next step of the story. Honestly, I would've been rewriting this to my grave and even then I would've sat up in my coffin to screech: 'wait, I think I should use iridescent instead of coruscating!'; so to avoid striking fear into the attendees of my funeral hearts, here it is!  
> All that being said, (having learned an amazing lesson from a tumblr post my sister showed me about the harm it can do to your readers by insulting your own work-making them feel they can't or shouldn't enjoy your work) I am still proud to call this story and this chapter my own and I'd love to hear what your thoughts are on it. Perhaps, I don't know, you noticed that a certain Rider failed to make an independent appearance in Astrid's day? ;)  
> Much love, as always, and a quadrillion thanks!


	5. Skillful Deception Using The Dexterity Of One's Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Astrid is torn from sleep by a relentlessly horrifying dream, she finds she is not the only one awake.   
> However, she quickly learns to make a rule for herself: never relax against the side of a dragon in the presence of someone who gives you peace when you're tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy! It's been yet another week!  
> However, in spite of trying to update this weekly, I'm a university student and December means finals time (without mention of making sure my gifts are all prepared) so this might be the last chapter you get until closer to Christmas. Sorry, guys!  
> So revel in the newest chapter while you can and hopefully I survive the finals grind enough to update this as soon as I can!

_ "Doing nothing often leads to the very best of something." _

_ \- Winnie The Pooh _

* * *

Astrid awoke abruptly and whisked her gaze around the unlit room in terror, her chest surging with gasps and a sheen of sweat burdening the expanse of her back. Recognizing she was still in Hiccup’s room, Astrid flopped backwards exhaustedly, her head colliding with the pillow as the down fluffed upwards around her cheeks from the impact, and concentrated on steadying her shallow breathing.

Astrid could only remember waltzing glimpses of her dream, the vague remnants she couldn’t sketch out electing to bury themselves in the veiled crevices of her mind to plague her with future terrors, and she swung shaky legs out of Hiccup’s bed, hoping the night air might bring revitalization to her trembling extremities. Astrid jerked her boots onto her chilled feet and stood tentatively before sliding down the stairs on her behind, fearing she might tip over the side when her body was in such a distraught state.

It was in moments such as these where Astrid couldn’t refrain from wondering why she had been hand-picked by the gods to endure this curse, caged inside her own mind with no other options but to beg for freedom that would not be bestowed. 

While all the other Riders were untroubled as they slept in their beds, their minds content to rest after a fulfilling day, Astrid’s mind took pleasure in taunting her by never slowing down, lacking the ability to unwind despite her lengthy day. There was always something gracing the shadows-lurking in the mists of her subconscious. There was always something loitering in the unknown, anticipating the moment it could lunge at her, snake its frigid arms around her shrieking body, and jerk her soul around until she couldn’t even walk down a flight of stairs like a normal human being.

“Perks of not being a normal human being, I guess,” she muttered hostilely to herself, teetering on quivering legs to the door to Hiccup’s hut to open it, a tsunami of piercing night air molding to her and embracing her sweat drenched back before seeping deep into her bones.

Astrid shambled out onto the platform and gazed up at the crescent moon beaming down at her, waving at her in its loneliness perched up in the sky. 

Seeing that it couldn’t be past five o’clock in the morning, Astrid turned her mouth down at the lonely moon, ignoring its wave to signal her displeasure, and gaped across the terrain of the Edge, its architecture only visible as outliers in the lightless night, before observing the orange glow seeping from the Clubhouse, her eyes appreciating the flickers of playful fire slithering through the open door.

With the world blanketed in shadow, the sun reveling in its nightly vacation, Astrid had assumed everyone would be asleep, the fire of the furnace long put out. Her assumption, however, was proving itself wrong as the fire continued to cast illusions on the wall, hardly visible from Hiccup’s hut.

Her curiosity sparked, Astrid followed the leading of the gangplank as quietly as she could-every whisper a scream when under the cloak of twilight-toward the Clubhouse, both cursing the long journey it was from Hiccup’s hut to the center Clubhouse and singing gratitude for the therapeutic nature of the giggling night air on her nerves and tremors.

When she inevitably drew close to the Clubhouse entrance, she slowed her pace, increasingly cautious of any noise she may make, and peeked around the door frame to observe the fire, though it proved to be only stoked embers, before her eyes fell from the furnace to the floor below to study Toothless.

Breathing evenly as he slumbered, the black mass was lounging luxuriously on the floor, warmed by the coals, and had stretched out his body so Hiccup could comfortably recline atop the dozing dragons back.

Hiccup had positioned his head securely on Toothless’ saddle, his one leg bent upwards while his other hung off Toothless’ side and swung back and forth lackadaisically, as he flipped the page of his book, his chest rising in a wave when he inhaled deeply and continued reading, the tranquility of the scene almost- _ almost _ -being enough to convince Astrid to slink away.

However, duty came above the simplistic beauty that could be found in the serenity hanging over the room as a mother would cradle her cooing babe and Astrid pulled her head free of the door, gave herself time to take a few breaths, closed her eyes as she reminded herself that failure wasn’t an option, and moved from her flattened position against the cool wooden wall to slither around the frame and into the room.

“Ah! What the-”

Astrid cringed when Toothless, having heard her enter the room long before Hiccup could realize, surged upwards enthusiastically at her presence, casting Hiccup from his back to crumple with a dull _thwump_ on the relentless floor, before bounding toward Astrid and warbling cheerily, closing his eyes to nuzzle against her hand affectionately.

“Gods, Toothless, what the Hel-Astrid! Hey, Astrid! Hi, Astrid! Hi...Astrid!”

Erupting into an upright position, Hiccup leaned against the table and clasped his book tight to his chest, rubbing his neck timidly while Astrid smiled and stroked Toothless’ scaly head, the dragon sighing in blessed contentment from the attentiveness of her gentle yet skilled hand. 

“Sorry, I didn’t expect him to throw you across the room,” apologized Astrid feebly but Hiccup just shrugged, tossing an unimpressed glance to Toothless’ mischievous smile.

“Ah, he can be a brat. While there are perks to his intelligence, there are also drawbacks. Including his inclination for mischief and manipulation,” remarked Hiccup, shifting his weight as he leaned against the table, and Toothless huffed moodily when Hiccup spoke about him, slinking himself around Astrid’s legs to nudge her opposite hand in search of more affection.

“He’s amazing,” hummed Astrid under her breath, Toothless playfully bounding over to Hiccup when he received no more attention from Astrid and butting Hiccup’s hip, nearly introducing the slim boy to the floor for a second time since Astrid had entered.

“Yeah, he’s something alright, ” admitted Hiccup, entertaining Toothless by teasing him and playfully batting at the large dragon’s head, Toothless reciprocating by snapping at Hiccup’s arms, his gums catching Hiccup’s hand and gnawing on it, “Awww Toothless, yuck!”

Hiccup wiggled his hand free of Toothless’ gums and grimaced at his slimy hand, shaking it off and rubbing it along the length of Toothless’ head, the dragon rolling his eyes, clearly thinking Hiccup far too dramatic.

Hiccup, however, smiled sheepishly at Astrid, hoping she didn’t think of him as the boy consistently covered in dragon spit, and continued to dry his hand as Toothless yawned and flopped to the ground again, his eyes sliding shut as he attempted to doze.

Able to identify isolated prey when she sees it, Astrid took the opportunity to glide further into the room, sweeping her hips gracefully to tempt him to appreciate their swell. Similarly, Astrid drew attention to her unblemished neck by tipping her head back-parting her lips as she did so-and shaking free her hair, left down long when she slept rather than laced in a braid, before looking invitingly to Hiccup.

_ Who isn’t even watching?!  _ cursed Astrid inwardly when she realized Hiccup had turned away from her to place his book onto the table behind him.

“So why are you up so late-or early, I suppose?” he asked innocently, and Astrid was tempted to growl and make a quip along the lines of: ‘so I can be unappreciated by a string with appendages, apparently’ as she grew increasingly vexed that nothing seemed to make this man _budge._

They were alone, no one would disturb them at such an Odin-forsaken hour, the fire cast a titillating mood, Heather’s clothes clung to her figure! She had other men spilling secrets into her ear with much less and yet Hiccup either remained uninformed regarding sex-which she doubted from a future Chief of Berk when his greatest duty was to produce an heir-or ambivalent to her seductions. 

Continuing to smile innocently at her, Hiccup lifted himself onto the table and tucked his leg comfortably underneath himself. Astrid, however, was more obsessive to break this man than she had ever been; not for duty or even for Viggo, but because she wasn’t going to be brushed aside as if she wasn’t the best at what she did.

_Hiccup may be the Dragon Master_ , she internally assured herself, _but I've_ _ wrangled dragons of my own, including dragons much fiercer than Hiccup. _

Astrid sashayed closer to the table until she was only a few paces from where Hiccup perched.

“Couldn’t sleep,” hummed Astrid, pausing to run her tongue over her top lip and making suggestive circles on the table with her thumb, “Perhaps I need some help to... _relax._ ”

“I think I have just the thing,” replied Hiccup hurriedly and Astrid bit her lip, bubbling with smug relief when she had finally stained the naïve boy, and leaned closer to him to encourage him in his pursuits before hesitating when he raised a willowy finger, “and I might have some in my saddle!”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” she purred, watching him slip from the table to fiddle with a small pouch-slightly curious why he would keep such an item in his saddle-and discreetly pulling her shirt down a little to increase the attention to her breasts. Astrid lifted herself up to lounge on the tabletop, unsure where he might want her and found her heart elevated.

Whether embarrassed of it or not, Astrid couldn’t deny that Hiccup had resided in a less than virtuous room of her mind since Johann had first described him. She couldn’t possibly be the only Viking maiden who glorified the image of a man able to train the beasts Vikings had deemed feral for generations. 

In equal measure, Astrid’s focus had always been toward older men who had spent years rising to their rank of ‘Valuable to Viggo’. Hiccup was her age. If she were a normal girl, living a normal life, he’d be an advantageous match with whom to wed, mate, and eventually grow old with; for some reason, that made the experience feel different. Or perhaps it was just that it was Hiccup.

Astrid attempted to focus, her heart now racing beyond control and her hands beginning to tremble in both excitement and agitation, when Hiccup rose from beside Toothless’ body again. Astrid was fully expecting Hiccup to return with something to aid in the process and could hardly restrain her surprise when he thrust a small container out to her, his eyes alight with pride. 

“Ta da!” he trilled, moving closer to her again while he popped the lid off, Astrid unable to ignore that he was so close to her she would only have to lean forward slightly to capture his lips, “Originally my mom’s recipe, my dad always restocks my personal container when I fly to Berk. I guess my mom called it Golden Milk!”

Astrid stared dumbfoundedly at Hiccup, her eyelashes dusting her cheeks when she blinked steadily, as he tipped the container up for her to see into it, his head leaning closer to hers as he did so before he gazed up at her in eager delight. His eyes were unending-a gateway to his soul-and Astrid treasured how learned they were with the world and yet still overflowing with child-like wonder at the simplest of things, the tempest of anger the world spun in failing to steal his hope.

Hiccup shook the container a little, clearly wanting Astrid to look at it, and she jerked her eyes from his to peer at the contents lining the jar, shaved turmeric, cinnamon, and ginger shaken together in a dirty orange mixture.

“You-you were talking about...tea?” stumbled Astrid, her voice airy in her disbelief, and Hiccup nodded animatedly, his cheeks screwing his eyes as he beamed.

“I promise it works! It really helps ease the tension of a long day. I’ll put on the kettle for us.”

Astrid continued to blink repeatedly when Hiccup hurried away, humming quietly to himself as he retrieved the kettle, remaining unaware of Astrid’s dumbfounded glaze.

As if flicked by Odin himself, Astrid caught whiplash as she stumbled back to reality and rushed to adjust her shirt, shattered by a merciless wave of feeling terribly silly.

While her heart raced at far less virtuous ideas of how to pass the time, Hiccup’s mind was preoccupied with his mother’s tea recipe. Was there anything more damning than a man thinking of his mother while one was trying to seduce him? 

Astrid felt tears tingling the back of her eyes and clamped them shut, unwilling to let Hiccup witness her emotion; in her unwillingness to cry, Astrid’s heart burned with anger, her patience for the Dragon Master’s forbearance steadily dwindling.

Was she not pretty enough for him? Did the almighty Dragon Master find her somehow beneath him?

Crossing her arms and gripping her biceps with whitened knuckles, Astrid resorted to pouting, jeering inwardly that perhaps that too was beneath the god-like Hiccup, but lacked understanding why she felt so angry at being snubbed. She had made deals with many devils before who found pleasure in shaming her, reiterating in her ear that she was nothing, simply a whore of the streets. It always bounced right off; her skin was thicker than most when she had been raised by condescending men. These men would insult and belittle her, she’d rob them right underneath their nose of any document, information, or otherwise, and it didn’t matter what they said because Viggo was well-pleased with her.

What did it matter if Hiccup thought less of her?

_ He’d probably be right _ , sulked Astrid, wallowing in her self-pity and turning her stare to the wall when Hiccup returned, hooking the kettle over the fire and stoking the sleepy coals back to life.

Still humming contentedly to himself, Hiccup placed two cups on the table between them and tapped the side of his grabbed container to fill them evenly with the contents of his mother's Golden Milk.

Placing the container to the side and brushing his hands together when he was satisfied, Hiccup bounced onto the table, tucking his leg underneath himself much as before, and shifted to face Astrid, still engrossed in the wall. All his movements ceased when he observed her purposeful disconnect.

“Umm...is everything alright? You seem-”

“Why wouldn’t everything be alright?” snapped Astrid, swiveling her head disjointedly back to him before remorse simmered in her stomach at the reflection of his eyes.

So vast, his pupils contracted in anguish as his eyes filled the mold Astrid had imagined they looked when he was cast aside by his father, neglected and shunned by the one who should’ve loved him most. 

Hiccup blinked and his eyes shifted their shade. The mossy green glimmers of his eyes lacked any tint of anger. If Astrid had snipped at Viggo with such a tone, she would’ve met the cold, lifelessness of Hel bleeding from Viggo’s eyes. However, Hiccup didn’t even look hurt or disappointed in her. Rather, Hiccup seemed less attentive to himself and more attentive to her, clearly distressed by her disquieted nature, thus plummeting Astrid into the void of her own guilt; it was the last place she desired to be.

If Hiccup had been furious by her outburst or even dejected, Astrid could’ve justified within herself that she was simply bestowing him the favor of understanding how he had made her feel, but when his eyes welled with regret and concern, she couldn’t justify her actions apart from being an asshole.

Unsure where to look in her blossoming humiliation, Astrid’s gaze flickered between glowering at the floor and Hiccup’s damning eyes before their shade shifted again, the apprehension and regret still present but steadily mixing with shimmers of contemplation, his eyes fixated down at the table and reading invisible words on its surface as his mind attempted to recount any previous events that could’ve possibly disquieted her.

“Did I do something wrong?” he mumbled meekly, fidgeting clumsily with his hands in his nervousness, and Astrid sighed, worn out by how convoluted this boy was continually proving to be.

She had tried subtle, then tried less than subtle-bordering on crude-and now she turned toward him with determination in her very breath, preparing to attempt an inescapable path, one where she would get an answer, even if she had to reach her hand down his throat and pry it from his lungs.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” asked Astrid pragmatically, crossing her hands daintily across her lap and locking her emotions deep within her when he gave no response, his eyebrows waving in surprise and contemplation as his mouth opened and closed several times, “Well…do you?”

Astrid was aware she was being obtrusive, trapping the poor boy in a corner when he expected anything other than what she had asked, but she was anxious to know. _Did_ he think her pretty, alluring, attractive? Or was everything for naught?

He spoke, slowly and thoughtfully, as if the situation were to be probed delicately, as a mother tends to a wound.

“In what manner are we speaking?”

“What?” huffed Astrid, pulling back from him in contempt, disliking his capability to startle her as much as she had startled him.

“Do you mean physically? Or mentally? Or emotionally? Or-”

“What?” cried Astrid again, interrupting him and shaking her head in disbelief, “I just-do you think I’m pretty or not?”

“That’s hardly a fair question!” cried Hiccup back, his eyes a relentless ocean of distress and remorse and his shoulders wiggling against gravity disjointedly as he spoke.

“So you don’t! You don’t think I’m pretty!” proclaimed Astrid indignantly, crossing her arms in an attempt to protect herself, her emotions beginning to leak from the sides of their locked cage, “Why didn’t you just say you don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Why would I say that?!” sniveled Hiccup desperately, Toothless’ auricles perking up at the crescendo of the argument.

“Because you don't-” began Astrid sharply, her emotions breaking down the door and splurging into her throat as she waved her hands frenziedly at him before he snatched them in his and shook his head frantically.

“No, that’s not true! Of course, I think you’re physically pretty! You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met!” he rambled incessantly, his eyes wild in desperation while he gripped her hands in his, using his thumbs to stroke their surface, “Anyone with eyes can tell you that you’re breathtaking, but I didn’t want you to think that’s all that matters to me! So, while I obviously think you’re pretty- _ beautiful _ -I’m sure you have an increasingly captivating mind and an invaluable heart!”

Astrid swallowed, her heart rate having increased by Hiccup’s warm and gentle hands, and considered the information that fell steadily from Hiccup’s lips, unsure what to do with it and glancing down at where he was still holding her hands, his calloused thumbs continuing to caress their surface. Watching the way he cradled her hands in such a stable yet freeing way, Astrid let her mind wander to when they first touched, her touch a blaze against their skin and pondered why he held her so comfortably now before Hiccup followed her gaze to where they were joined and jerked his hands back to himself, clearly flustered.

“Oh gods,” he whined, pushing away from her on the table and cringing, “I’m sorry, I just-”

“Did you really mean all that?” interrupted Astrid quietly, her hands still warm from his thrilling touch, “Everything you said about...my heart and mind?”

Hiccup ran a hand through his hair, looking reticently between her and his hands, fidgeting again, before casting her a side smile.

“Of course I did. I know I came on a little strong, but even in the day and a half you’ve been here, you’ve shown your personality matches your beauty with equal vitality.”

The kettle began to whistle, Toothless grimacing at its pitch and scratching at his sensitive ears, and Hiccup moved to release it from its heated torture, filled the two cups, and placed the kettle to the side, jiggling his leg embarrassedly as they waited for the tea to steep.

“Thor, I’m really sorry,” breathed Astrid, the mortification of her outburst steeping as thoroughly through her as the tea in her cup, and she picked at her chipped nail, “I don’t know what came over me. I can’t believe I just asked you that.”

“I’m sorry, too,” chuckled Hiccup bashfully, looking down at where his leg hung off the table, “I punched Snotlout, but he’s right. I really don’t know how to talk to women and I really never meant to call you ugly.”

Astrid laughed bitterly, lifting her cup when Hiccup slid it carefully across the table to her, and gnawed on her dry lip.

“You didn’t call me ugly,” she admitted tentatively, uncertain how much of her insecurity she dared share with Hiccup, “I just...I wasn’t expecting you to grab-ah, forget about it.”

Having withstood enough embarrassing blows for one day (and it was only 5:30 in the morning), Astrid deemed it a sentence she best not finish.

“Well, you asked me, so I get to ask you,” said Astrid confidently, hoping to change the trajectory of the conversation before Hiccup asked any questions about what she had thought he was grabbing, “Why are you up so early?”

“Similar to you,” he confessed, running his finger through the steam that had gathered on the rim of his cup, “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I might as well put some work in.”

“You seem to work a lot,” probed Astrid, blowing on her tea before taking a sip and reveling in the warm caress it gave her throat, and Hiccup shrugged, smiling thoughtfully.

“Lots has to get done. While I try and make sure every Rider pulls an equal amount of weight, I’d never want to kill them either. The twins live for fun, Fishlegs lives for serenity, Heather lives for sparring, and Snotlout lives to be lazy, so I try to give them some time off to do the things they love while I do the little tasks that need to be completed. As for me, my mind is far too busy a place to ever be stationary for very long. Even if I’m not ‘working’ I like to be making Toothless’ tail fin better or my flying more accurate. I guess that’s fun for me.”

“I heard you like keeping to yourself,” prodded Astrid and Hiccup rolled his eyes playfully, smirking.

“Let me guess, the twins told you that?”

“Yeah, they called it ‘Rat Out The Rider’.”

“Everything’s a game on this island,” explained Hiccup, chortling a little and taking a sip of his tea, “and the twins are far too nosey. I suppose one could say I’m introverted, liking the peace that comes when it's just Toothless and I, but not always. I appreciate the other Riders immensely. They keep me balanced.”

“You seem to have a strong familial dynamic.”

“Gods, yeah. It can get draining,” admitted Hiccup, tipping his head back in mock exasperation as Astrid crossed her legs on the table, leaning in to Hiccup as he talked, “being so close with people your age all the time. Everyone starts having their flaws eventually. I used to be obsessed with Heather because she was a badass but a kind badass. I mean, everyone expected her to win the honor of killing the dragon, as was the ritual when one competed in Dragon Training back in the days, because she was a warrior through and through.”

“And then?”

“And then I found out she’s a maniac when she’s on dinner and will kill you if you even enter the Clubhouse when she’s cooking, she’s heavily maternal- ‘don’t talk with your mouth full, Hiccup’; ‘don’t whine, Hiccup’; ‘stop rubbing your eyes, Hiccup’; ‘stand up straight, Hiccup’; ‘you can’t throw yourself off cliffs and just hope Toothless catches you, Hiccup’-and she snores so loud you could wake the dead.”

Astrid laughed, tipping her head down as she smiled, Hiccup running a hand through his hair as he released a giggle of his own.

“Will she be happy you’re telling me this?” asked Astrid, taking another gulp of tea but Hiccup only shrugged, frowning in his ambivalence.

“Probably not, but speaking of happy, Snotlout and Fishlegs can never both be happy. One of them is always displeased. If I do things to make Fishlegs happy then Snotlout grumbles about how boring it is, if I do things to make Snotlout happy then Fishlegs sulks and mumbles about how it isn’t practical, but if I do things my way then I’m overbearing and reckless. I always have someone who thinks it’s being done wrong.”

“Typical,” giggled Astrid, tucking her hair behind her ear and thoroughly enjoying the way Hiccup swirled his arms around as he talked, his eyes shimmering with life, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen more opposing personalities.”

“And the twins-don’t get me started on the twins!”

“Oh no, please!” giggled Astrid, really hoping Hiccup would continue, his light-hearted jest at the other Riders increasingly entertaining, before finishing her tea, “Please get started on the twins.”

“They only have two sets of clothes because they ‘work hard to get that scent’, they have this obsession with boars and chickens that manages to make its way into every conversation! They revel in chaos so no matter how well I plan something-even when it includes blowing things up-they’ll never actually follow it! It’s like herding yaks that have no sense of direction!”

Astrid couldn’t control her laughter, her one hand coming up to cover her mouth while her other waved at him to stop when she couldn’t breathe, and Hiccup raised his hands in surrender, chuckling and giving her a moment to catch her breath before continuing.

“However, it’s only fair to admit that I drive them as crazy as they drive me. Snotlout hates my guts, the twins think I’m a stick in the mud, Heather thinks I’m too reckless, and Fishlegs...well...I’m not entirely sure what Fishlegs hates about me.”

“Oh, Fishlegs is obsessed with you. He loves boasting about you,” disclosed Astrid, letting Hiccup take her cup when he had emptied his.

Letting the tea settle warmly in her stomach, Astrid did feel much better than she had earlier, her nightmare ages away, her disastrous encounter with Hiccup fading the more they spoke, and any reminder of the pressures that plagued her soul falling dormant, but whether she had the tea to thank for that or Hiccup was unknown. Both had brought a sense of peace, the tea physically settling her nerves and Hiccup emotionally settling her restlessness.

“Well, are you a stick in the mud?” challenged Astrid, cocking her head as she invited his response, Hiccup having returned from placing the cups in the washing bucket for later.

Hiccup gave no verbal response, instead just wiggling his eyebrows mischievously, and Astrid snorted, unable to keep herself composed, as Hiccup snickered, leaning against the table.

“In all honesty, I probably am. I try my best, but I should lighten up some more, especially on Snotlout.”

“Well…” considered Astrid aloud, swinging her foot off the edge of the table and nudging his knee, “I spent all of yesterday getting to know the other Riders. What if today was my day to get to know you?”

Hiccup seemed to contemplate what Astrid’s proposition entailed and she murmured again, really hoping he would take her up on the offer, the minutes she had spent with him already proving entertaining.

“I mean, prove you’re not a stick in the mud. Take one day off work and just relax.”

“Is that a challenge?” muttered Hiccup, crossing his arms, raising his eyebrows at her, and leaning his weight to one side, but Astrid just grinned devilishly.

“Fine,” accepted Hiccup resolvedly, splaying his hands as he spoke, “If the lady wants me to relax, then the lady shall get what she wants.”

Astrid flicked her long and somewhat tangled hair over her stiff shoulder pontifically, protruding her bottom lip as she tipped her chin up and gave an excessively embellished bow to Hiccup, unable to stop her giggles trickling from the corners of her stiffened mouth when Hiccup clumsily returned her extravagance with a bow of his own.

“There is only one problem with the lady’s request,” added Hiccup, looking thoughtfully at the world outside, the sun steadily dragging itself from its holiday to light the dome of the earth, “I don’t think there has ever been a day where my name hasn’t been screamed from somewhere on the Edge. I’ve never been away from the Riders that long.”

Astrid slid from the surface of the table to move closer to Hiccup, his eyes clearly unsettled as he prioritized the Riders ahead of himself. Hunching her back and craning her neck upwards, Astrid sought his eyes when they had become fixated on the floor, their spheres looking uncertainly at her when she spoke again.

“Hey, it was just a suggestion because I got to know everyone else,” she soothed, unable to understand why Hiccup thought so carefully about the Riders when it was only a day, “but I wouldn’t want you to spend the time feeling guilty. How about we come back before lunch? That leaves you over half a day to still work.”

“That seems fair,” agreed Hiccup, his eyebrows sinking closer to his eyes and his shoulders squirming in his resolution, “I get half a day for me and I’d be willing to guess they won’t even notice I’m gone. They can’t cause that much damage in a few hours, right?”

Astrid grinned, her cheeks beginning to grow sore from her joy, and Hiccup grinned back, clearly proud he was striking out on his own.

“Then the next step is finding somewhere the screams of ‘Hiccup’ are out of range,” instructed Astrid, popping out her hip and crossing her arms but Hiccup waved his hand passively, his mind having already withdrew the setting from his memories.

“Way ahead of you,” he explained, striding over to Toothless as the dragon shook the cloak of sleep from his shoulders, stretching as Hiccup swung his leg over and adjusted himself in the saddle.

Hiccup ceased moving when Astrid hadn’t followed, her gaze settled uneasily on Toothless while she wrung her hands and shuffled her feet, before humming his understanding and hopping free of Toothless again, giving her an apologetic glance.

“Sorry, I forgot you’ve never ridden a dragon.”

“Maybe one day,” answered Astrid feebly, her cheeks reddening as she shifted standoffishly (she disliked that everything around here seemed to be done with dragons), before Toothless’ forward bound to nudge at her hand for affection again pacified her distant mannerisms and she granted him a scratch, “I just don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.”

Taking the lead, Hiccup ambled out of the Clubhouse and down the length of the gangplank, Astrid lurching to catch up while Toothless surged past them so as to saunter self-righteously ahead. Hiccup looked reassuringly to Astrid, tucking his hands casually in his pockets as they walked.

“Trust me, with enough tenacity, anyone can ride a dragon. I have not yet met someone who was incapable of the task.”

“I don’t know,” droned Astrid dividedly, caught between her own conclusions and recognizing Hiccup’s obvious expertise, and she tightened her shoulder into her neck, “I mean, a dragon is a large beast to control.”

“Well there lies your first problem,” chuckled Hiccup, flashing a reticent gaze to Astrid that screamed his knowledge succeeded her own, “but either way riding a dragon must be your choice and no one else’s. If you’re not ready, then I will never push it.”

“So elusive,” lamented Astrid, resenting Hiccup’s knowledgeable glances that still masked themselves in secrecy, “You tell me I have a problem and then won’t share what it is?”

“You think my lessons are free?” heaved Hiccup, feigning pained offense by clutching at his chest and screwing his face mournfully.

Astrid tittered and lunged onto a fallen tree trunk, balancing along its surface and weaving around its branches nimbly as Hiccup continued strolling on the ground beside her, their path having met the edge of the forest.

“People pay for dragon riding lessons from a string of sinew with a metal leg? What can I say apart from ‘what a rip off’?” goaded Astrid, sweeping a glance to Hiccup to monitor his temperament, not wanting to break the boundary between poking fun and cruel torment, but Hiccup just sniggered, curling in on himself.

“Oh ho! And the lady quips back!” he crooned, squinting at her as she continued deftly along the length of the tree, “As a matter of fact, many Vikings have sought my counsel in regard to-”

“ _As a matter of fact, many Vikings have sought my counsel_ -” mimicked Astrid, dropping her voice to a masculine grunt while expanding her chest and striking a husky pose as Hiccup continued to laugh. Astrid looked happily down onto him, pleased she could make him chirp the melodious sound of his laugh, his mouth cracked in a smile that overwhelmed his entire body.

“They have!”

“In all seriousness though,” hummed Astrid, huffing a laugh as she sprung agilely from the tree, bumping Hiccup’s shoulder in jest as they continued along at a fair pace through the trees, the sun having broken free from the sea and illuminating the endless palate of colors decorating the forest, “you are called the Dragon Master all across the sea so I don’t doubt that your knowledge is valued by many.”

“That’s an unjust name,” admitted Hiccup, tilting his head in to her and his elbows flapping outward, his hands still buried in his pockets, “I’m not the master of anything, least of all dragons. As for the value my knowledge holds, as limited as it continually proves itself to be, some treasure it, others scoff at it. Much like anything under the sun you will find people defending the extreme left, others defending the extreme right, and some just resting calmly in the middle to signal their indifference.”

“How many Riders have you trained?” questioned Astrid, rubbing her tinged nose from the cold and pulling a leaf from its safe keeping on a branch.

Hiccup ruminated the question before shaking his head softly, the tufts of his hair squirming along with the movement.

“Trained is an improper word,” he concluded, shifting his attention from their path to Astrid’s inquisitive eyes, their shade glimmering mesmerizingly in the light of the reborn sun, “I train dragons, but I do not train Riders.”

Astrid’s forehead crinkled in question and Hiccup continued, the bewitching swirls of cobalt and azure that resided so elegantly in her eyes gripping him with an overwhelming warmness that he dared not encourage within himself forcing him to jerk his debauched gaze to their much less alluring path again.

“I think-though you caught me off guard, so my thoughts are very primitive on the subject-I prefer the term ‘guide’. I _guide_ Riders toward successful dragon riding. That’s why being a Dragon Rider, whether part of an elite team of warriors and flyers like the Riders of the Edge or just a hobbyist like the people of Berk, must be the Rider’s choice. One has to be ready, not forced-and I say that having been raised by a father who believed shoving me in the water was the quickest way for me to learn how to swim.”

“How do I know if I am ready?” inquired Astrid frailly, finding little to enjoy about how much independence she seemed to require in order to be a Rider.

“It’s less about knowing and more about feeling. Being a Dragon Rider is about more than just riding a dragon,” expounded Hiccup, pulling one of his hands free from its captivity and waving it artistically as he spoke, “but, if you’re considering it, then I’d be more than willing to guide you through some of the preliminary steps to solidify your concerns about not being ready. I’d just never want you to feel like you have to be a Dragon Rider to be welcome here.”

“No, you’ve been very welcoming,” assured Astrid, still fiddling with her leaf and bending its stem, “How will I know that there’s a dragon out there for me?”

“Well there are multitudes of-Toothless, don’t eat that! -dragon species out there and I’ve found a match for every Viking whose shown interest, including a man named Gorm who was so afraid of heights he couldn’t bear to stand on a step stool. There is a dragon out there for you. On the flip side, while some are prone to be more loyal than others, I haven’t yet met a dragon that held devotion for nothing. Dragons are territorial and faithful by nature-their steadfastness making them a force to be reckoned with-and there is little they wouldn’t do for a human who has earned that loyalty. So, while I think some personalities link together better than others-an example visible through Fishlegs and Meatlug both desiring peace in their existence-you can find a desire for attachment and loyalty in any dragon. To cite the example above, though Meatlug’s personality will always contrast Snotlout’s, Meatlug has and will continue to keep Snotlout from any harm because, as a member of the Edge, Snotlout has unknowingly earned a relationship with Meatlug. They are truly fascinating creatures.”

“Your nerd is showing,” teased Astrid, chortling, and Hiccup blushed, rubbing at his neck and leaning away from Astrid, putting distant between them when their shoulders had begun to brush together. Astrid mourned the loss of his warmth.

“Ah, sorry. Just a-just a bad habit, I guess.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” clarified Astrid hurriedly, looking up at him in alarm and reassurance, “it’s actually rather cool. Your... _oneness_ with the dragons. I didn’t mean you had to be embarrassed of it.”

Hiccup opened his mouth to reply, but before any words could pass his teeth, Toothless was bounding back toward them and painting black circles around Hiccup’s feet-nearly knocking Astrid over when she caught a dragon tail to her knees- and latching his gums onto Hiccup’s arm to yank him along.

“Must mean we’re here,” grunted Hiccup, hunching over as Toothless continued to jerk his arm, and he flashed a smile that shone with boyish charm that sparked a giggle from Astrid as Toothless yanked Hiccup through the brush, Hiccup spitting when he got a mouthful of leaves.

Following behind the black lump bounding through the shrubs, Astrid stepped clear of the forest, pushing a cluster of leaves out of her way, and stared at the majesty of the landscape surrounding her, spinning around as she admired the bay Hiccup had led her to, the sun warming the waves as they lapped intimately at the sand.

Astrid abandoned her worship of the terrain to fixate her gaze on Toothless, his elation encouraging him to abandon towing Hiccup awkwardly beside him and dive into the shallow waters, gnashing his gums at the foam while it tumbled to shore with high expectation to catch one, the water spilling from his cheeks as he lunged around, his teeth retracted as his gums squished together.

“Welcome to Toothless’ favourite spot on the island,” presented Hiccup, throwing his hands up in display of the secluded bay, “ I don’t know why he thinks the water here is so much different than the water everywhere else but he’d spend hours here so sometimes I let him play while I take some time to think.”

“It’s stunning. I see why it would become a favourite,” vocalized Astrid, strolling further onto the beach until her boots just avoided the caress of the water and squatting so she could rest her palm on its surface, watching each wave cascade over the obstacle of her hand, coating it in a sheen.

Astrid smiled contentedly when Hiccup bent down beside her, his shoulder pad brushing hers, and sunk his hands into the water to cup a handful of the liquid, both of them watching the sun reflect off it, excess leaking through the impurities of his grasp.

“I’m honored you showed me your thinking place,” breathed Astrid, still looking at the cupped water in Hiccup’s hands as if she feared the vibrations of her voice would disturb the tiny ecosystem Hiccup held so delicately, and Hiccup grinned, splaying his hands to let the water embrace freedom again.

“Anything for the lady,” he murmured slowly, concentrating as he lowered his hands to scoop another overflowing handful of water, Astrid looking back at her own stationary hand as Hiccup lifted his hands up quickly to dump his captured water on her head. Astrid gasped from the sudden chilling sensation against her hair, inhaling and exhaling stiffly when the icy water rolled down her neck and back.

“ _Hiccup Haddock_ , you have made a mistake!” she hissed, tussling her hair to free the excess water before plunging her hand into the water and jerking it upward to splash Hiccup’s face, a few water droplets melting into his shirt.

“You call that a splash?” he taunted, submerging his own hand to splash water onto her crouched form, coating her shirt and neck in a white wave of water, but Astrid only shook her head wickedly, a smile playing across her lips.

“No, I call _this_ a splash!”

Putting her hands firmly on his shoulder, she gave him a hard push and heard him cry out when he went sprawling forward, his reflexes lagging when he failed to catch himself in time, his face colliding with the water as it soaked his hair and chest.

Astrid clapped a hand over her mouth, not anticipating he would fly forward so quickly, and tried to stifle her snicker when Hiccup lifted himself up from the frigid water with a shivering gasp, water dripping from his face and hair. Astrid bit her lip prior to opening her mouth to apologize, repentant for her actions when she watch his chest heave with puffs of air at the abrasive contact with the sea, but could only utter a squeak when Hiccup spun around, a vengeful smirk gracing his wet lips, and gripped her arm-his grip both unyielding and yet careful not to bruise-to tug her into the water beside him, her mind left reeling dazedly when she nearly flopped onto his chest and her hands quest for stability found her clasping his thigh, until she was just as wet as he was.

They sat in the shallows for a moment, the waves splitting around their bodies, as Astrid tried to erase the rush she had been flooded with at the sensation of the muscle tone Hiccup hid in his legs and Hiccup grew anxious that dragging Astrid into the water was the worst idea he’d ever had, before Toothless bounded over to join in the fun, using his tail to cascade a large wave of water over both of them, Hiccup’s hair sticking to his forehead while Toothless warbled happily and continued prancing around. Looking at each other, both of them having taken a free bath, their laughter bubbled over and they clutched at their trembling sides, the sand soft beneath their hands as they giggled, each time they looked at each other inspiring a fresh bout of chortles.

Finally gaining composure, Hiccup pushed himself upward until he was standing, the clumpy sand forming a gentle vacuum around his feet as he leaned down and helped Astrid up, his hands stable as they embraced hers.

Sloshing their way to the sand, Hiccup shook his wet hair and shivered while Astrid wrung out her own hair.

“Now we have to dry off.”

“Your ability to state the obvious is truly impeccable,” drawled Astrid, rolling her eyes when he struck a lofty pose and punching his stomach playfully, the sun beaming down from the sky.

“Well I do aim to please the lady,” he declared prestigiously before abandoning his loftiness to ruffle his hair and sniffle, Astrid looking out across the ocean before tossing an unimpressed gaze to him.

“For all your lady talk,” thrummed Astrid, a few chuckles catching between her words as she laced her wet hair into a braid, “you sure like dragging them into freezing water.”

“You started it!”

Astrid grinned and shrugged, her nose wrinkling when she was unwilling to address that fact, before she collapsed onto the sand, curling her legs to sit cross-legged, and Hiccup followed her lead plopping himself across from her so they could each face the other. Hiccup stretched to the side to snatch a stick protruding from the sand, using it to sketch across the earth.

“You draw?” asked Astrid curiously, eyeing the indent left in the sand from each drop of water plummeting from the end of her braid, and Hiccup nodded gingerly, finishing his sketch of a small sailboat with a flourish.

“When I get the chance, yeah. I used to draw all the time in my early teenage years. Now it seems like there just isn’t time.”

“What do you draw?”

“Consistently? I sketch blueprints for my inventions. For fun? Toothless, landscapes, the Riders. Whatever captures my eye.”

Hiccup swept his hand over the sand, his sketch of a sailboat now just a memory, and poked his stick into his fresh canvas, looking up periodically as he attempted Astrid’s portrait.

“I wish I had the skill to draw,” admitted Astrid feebly, “It seems like such an elegant ability.”

Hiccup, engrossed in her portrait now, gave no response, just continuing to outline her braid in the sand, his brow creased in concentration and his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth.

They sat in silence for several minutes, letting the world do the talking for them as Hiccup continued manipulating the sand to get her just right and Astrid let her tired eyes slide shut, the mellow sun soaking into her fair skin as it dried, the spring months bestowing the world with blessed warmth.

“Oh gods, it’s shit.”

Astrid peeled open her eyes when Hiccup spoke, his voice tearing through the gentle breeze, and glanced at him drowsily before dropping her gaze to find the object of his displeasure, his mouth screwed as if his tongue was bitter and his nose crinkled angrily.

Indented in the sand before her was an elegant sketch of her from the neck up, positioned how she was moments before, her eyes closed-Hiccup managing to indent delicate eyelashes against her cheeks-her braid cascading attractively messy over her shoulder, and her face turned up to the sun. Astrid shimmied her eyes over its expanse several times, astounded that Hiccup, equipped with only a stick and sand, captured the shadows and curves of her face so handsomely. Her lips full and her neck slender, Astrid wondered whether she truly did look that gracefully attractive or whether Hiccup had embellished her attributes, making the woman in the sand far more handsome than the woman he really sat across from.

“Gods, sorry it’s so bad,” mumbled Hiccup embarrassedly, stretching his hand down to wipe it from the face of the earth before croaking in pain when Astrid lunged forward and bent his hand backwards.

“Don’t even think about it,” hissed Astrid, shifting herself so she could guard the drawing while Hiccup shook out his hand and curved his lips into a boyish half-smile.

“Thor, I didn’t even think it was that good.”

“I know, but no one asked what you thought,” remarked Astrid, giving the tide an intimidating glower in case it dared consider licking away the drawing, “and I want it to stay.”

“Well if the lady likes it, then-”

“I never said I liked it,” rushed Astrid, crossing her arms and feeling naked when Hiccup looked up at her through his long eyelashes, as if he could see all her insecurities laid bare.

Hiccup was proving to be an unsolvable puzzle, his eyes dark and alluring while his composure maintained the same naïve and oblivious state that had infuriated her earlier that day. Astrid couldn’t seem to get any accurate intel from him, more uncertain now than ever what he sought in a mate, and that was without mention of the way he set her soul aflame.

“Oh, right. My bad,” he concluded, “If the lady doesn’t like it but wants to defend it from the pressure of my hand across its surface, then I shan’t deny her that.”

Astrid rolled her eyes, jolting her foot out to shove his leg as he snickered, ever much a boy as all the other men she had met when it was evident he was proud of his clever jab, before wiggling comfortably in the sand and freeing a coin from the pouch on her belt, twirling it around with her fingers while Hiccup scratched beneath Toothless chin when the dragon abandoned his attempts to drink the entire ocean and settled on curling around Hiccup protectively, his body a crescent as the sand clung to his damp scales. 

“Do you want to see my secret power?” thrummed Astrid, the sun glinting off her coin as it shone down on the comfortable trio.

“A secret power?” repeated Hiccup, running his hand through his damp hair and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his crossed knees, “Yeah, sure.”

Astrid chewed on the inside of her cheek as she held her coin up with her thumb and forefinger, watching Hiccup’s eyes slide lazily to look at it.

“I can make coins disappear.”

Hiccup released a laugh, his head tipping back, and gazed at her tenderly to communicate she was not the object of his ridicule.

“No one can just make shit disappear,” chuckled Hiccup, leaning back onto his hands, his chest rising and falling steadily with each of his breaths.

“I can,” boasted Astrid, nodding her head confidently, “See this coin? Watch it disappear.”

Astrid brought her other hand up and snatched the coin from her fingertips, her hand clamped tight around it, before breathing into the palm of her hand and opening it, the coin having vanished while her other hand relaxed in her lap.

Hiccup was smirking with disbelief as he watched, his eyes following Astrid’s hands, before his jaw dropped-his eyes caverns of awe-when she revealed her coinless palm and he leaned forward, reaching for her hand and flipping it over several times in an attempt to pinpoint the whereabouts of the coin.

“How? No,” breathed Hiccup, Astrid watching him cheerily as he ran his fingertips over her palm, “ _What the fu_ -where is it? How? No. _How?_ ”

“It’s right here,” tittered Astrid, reaching forward and pulling the coin from behind Hiccup’s ear.

“What?” huffed Hiccup, grabbing at his hair, mystified, “How did you do that?! I saw your hands the whole time!”

Astrid laughed, her cheeks sore from all her smiling, and flipped the coin in the air, catching it.

“You’ve never heard of sleight of hand?”

Hiccup shook his head, leaning into Astrid to encourage her to explain.

“Sleight of hand is skillful deception using the dexterity of one's hands,” elucidated Astrid, repeating the words that had been taught to her, “You were watching this hand.”

Astrid waved at Hiccup with her left hand before tucking that same hand behind her back and holding up her right, the coin cupped comfortably in her palm.

“You should’ve been watching this hand. Assumption is a dangerous path.”

“That...is… _incredible_!” sang Hiccup, throwing his hands in the air excitedly, “Will you teach me how to do it? Please?”

Astrid chuckled and raised her eyebrows when Hiccup lifted himself up to push closer to her, the gap between them dwindling to non-existent in his elation. She had never had such an enthusiastic and attentive student before-never even really had a student-but his eyes were wide enough to absorb the entirety of the world.

“You really want to know?” asked Astrid cautiously, afraid his passion was just to mock her, but he nodded silently and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth like a child impatient to open their Snoggletog presents.

When Hiccup nodded, Astrid smiled, a sense of pride and value flooding her heart, and moved to sit beside him to show him the trick, Toothless adjusting to allow Astrid access before tightening his body around the two of them, a ring of security encompassing them.

“The first step: show your audience the object of their attention. In this case the coin,” illustrated Astrid, holding up the coin like she had moments before, “Once you’ve shown them, you can begin the art of deceiving them.”

Hiccup nodded studiously as Astrid began to demonstrate how she had fooled him.

“So you’re going to bring your opposite hand up and you’re going to supposedly ‘grab’ the coin,” she hummed, looking at Hiccup again to ensure he was following, his eyes vigilantly fixated on her hands, “but instead of grabbing it, you’re going to guide it, gently, into the palm of the hand it's always been in. However, the key is to _sell your deceit_. So you have to relax this palm, bringing it down to your lap or side, and make it look like it's empty while making this hand look exciting so your audience keeps its focus on the hand you want them to focus on.”

“You did that by blowing into your hand!” added Hiccup, smiling brightly when he was following Astrid’s instruction.

“Exactly. So you blow into your always empty hand and open it to reveal nothing, making it seem like you made the object disappear.”

“Meanwhile the object is actually in your other, less exciting hand!”

“Such a smart pupil,” praised Astrid, gazing kindly at his beaming face, euphoric she had applauded him, “but no disappearing trick is complete until you make it reappear. That’s the punchline of the joke, if you will.”

Hiccup nodded, rubbing at his nose as Astrid held up her relaxed palm, the coin cradled contentedly in it.

“Abandoning the palm that supposedly made your coin disappear, you use the hand that actually has the coin to reach up, quickly so they can’t see the coin tucked in your palm, and use your thumb to push your coin up your palm to your fingertips and pull it from behind their ear. Thus, your deception is complete!”

“So…the goal,” contemplated Hiccup aloud, shifting closer to Astrid until their knees touched, gently brushing each other, “is to make them assume that the coin is in your left when it’s in your right.”

“As I said, assumption is a dangerous path,” confirmed Astrid, tenderly grabbing Hiccup’s hand so his palm was facing up before pressing the coin against it, “Now you try.”

Hiccup nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed nervously before his tongue made an appearance out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated again.

“Okay, so show your coin,” instructed Astrid, studying Hiccup as he held his hand up proudly, his childlike infatuation with her trick making her feel distinct, as if no one else in the world taught him that trick as well as her.

It filled her with a feeling of agency, individualism, separation from the general population. Astrid’s mouth curved up at the thought that, in simplistic terms, Hiccup made her feel _seen_. As if he could’ve chosen anyone to teach him that trick, but he hand-picked her. Thrust into a world of grays where everything and everyone looked the same, Astrid was constantly expected to blend in with everyone else so as not to cause any unnecessary disruptions. She was ignored by everyone and she thought that was what she wanted, to be another woman in a sea of women.

Then came Hiccup. Who soared above the crowd on his Night Fury before promptly landing in front of her, blinking, and whispering that he saw her when no one else had.

“This is my coin,” declared Hiccup to no one, Astrid abandoning her thoughts to roll her eyes and smile fondly.

“Now bring your other hand up to grab the coin,” guided Astrid, tapping her finger against his other hand and lying to herself that it was necessary and she wasn’t just looking for a reason to touch him, “once that hand masks your deception-remember all deception happens behind a mask-drop the coin into your palm.”

Hiccup concentrated, releasing the coin from his vice-like fingers, and chirped when it rolled from his palm into the sand between his legs.

“You have to keep it in your palm,” laughed Astrid, feeling her hair to see how damp it still was, Hiccup’s soft tufts already dry, and Hiccup threw her a deadpanned face, his mouth twitching in his desire to smile.

“Your ability to state the obvious is truly impeccable,” quipped Hiccup, wiggling his head back and forth in a pathetic attempt to intimidate her.

“You can’t use my own line on me!” gasped Astrid, swatting at the back of Hiccup’s head as he sniggered, “Just practice your trick, Coin Boy.”

“I will, thank you very much!” he proclaimed, holding up his coin to begin again before hesitating and gazing at Astrid curiously, “How did you learn?”

Astrid froze for a moment, her tongue trapped behind her teeth, before realizing she needed an answer and kicking herself into motion, skillfully maneuvering herself toward a smooth explanation no one would find suspicious.

“An old merchant taught me,” she lied fluidly, “in the village I was living on the streets in. He was the only one who was nice to me. The rest called me an Unwanted-the term for kids abandoned by their parents.”

Hiccup nodded, his eyebrows knitting together in his empathy as he mulled over Astrid’s story, and Astrid swallowed her sprinting heart. In reality, it had been Viggo who had shown her the trick when she was quite young, offering her a candy when she pleased him. He would pull it from her behind her ear and she would clap, chanting ‘again, again!’, but he would shake his head and toss her the candy, growling that she ‘knew better than to beg’. When she grew older, he eventually taught her the trick, saying she was to practice it until she could fool Ryker so she could ultimately fool others, slipping necessary items when required. 

When she thanked him for teaching her, he simply nodded and patted her head, stating that ‘no skill was to be wasted’.

Hiccup, however, seemed content with her answer regarding the merchant and Astrid guided him through the trick several more times, Hiccup dropping the coin in the sand three more times, before he had a basic hold on it. Astrid lazed backwards, Toothless body warm from the embrace of the sun, and let her eyes fall closed again as Hiccup continued practicing his trick; Astrid smiled when she could hear him whispering the instructions to himself.

Astrid yawned, the effects of waking up at five in the morning slapping her across the face, and felt Hiccup flop down beside her, his shoulder bumping hers as he yawned.

“You’ve just infected me with Yawn Disease,” he mumbled, stretching his hands up and behind his head.

“What the Hel is Yawn Disease?”

“Yawns are contagious. You yawn, so I yawn. I yawn, so you yawn. Thus sparking Yawn Disease.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” snorted Astrid as Hiccup yawned again.

Several seconds passed before Astrid found her mouth opening wide with a yawn, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and Hiccup sat up, pointing accusingly at her.

“See? I yawned so you yawned! It’s psychological warfare!”

Astrid rolled her eyes in mockery of Hiccup’s so-called ‘disease’ but was unable to stifle an amused chuckle.

“Psychological warfare, my ass,” she droned, her body far too relaxed to press into the debate any further, “I’m just enjoying the sun which you, sir, are blocking.”

“Whatever the lady says,” he conceded, collapsing against Toothless as he purred, stretching out before tightening the ring of his body around the two of them once more.

They lulled into a soothing silence again and Astrid savored the way the sun loved her body, her shirt nearly dry by now, thinking again of Hiccup’s question.

It prompted the memory of how Viggo had taught her. Giving her only one demonstration, he had expected her to latch onto the concept quickly. She, however, wasn’t like Hiccup. While she was a skilled warrior, she failed to grasp specific movements of small body parts and Viggo had grown increasingly frustrated every time she dropped the candy, much as Hiccup had with his coin. It was a shameful memory, her tears overwhelming her childish eyes and blurring her vision of the wrapped sugar as she repeated the trick unendingly to please Viggo.

She had always associated sleight of hand as a beacon of failure for her, Viggo inhaling sharply through his nose and grimacing-his one eye always twitching as the veins in his neck pulsated-when the candy would clatter across the floor, Astrid scrambling with blurred eyes to catch it, hurrying to try again so Viggo wouldn’t grow angrier in her sloth.

Now, sleight of hand left a warmer and slightly whimsical sensation in her stomach, Hiccup, much as he had the sun, blocking the anxiety inducing memory of Viggo’s scowl with one of lapping water, soft sand, and emerald eyes containing trillions of galaxies transfixed on her-seeing her, picking her, breathing her name-as if she cradled an entire archipelago in her hands.

In a way she couldn’t explain, she could hardly visualize the scene where Viggo had cursed her clumsiness, in spite of the fact that only a few moments ago she would sworn the image would be branded on the surface of her mind for the remainder of her existence. Yet now Viggo’s face was masked by Hiccup’s, his eyes glimmering with such life as he nobly held up his coin, proclaiming that it was, in fact, his coin.

Astrid shook the idea from her mind that perhaps the reason she noticed the elegant shine of the sun so noticeably today was because of Hiccup. That perhaps her eyes had the capability to glow with as much life as his. 

Astrid avoided gambling in ‘perhaps’, yet she couldn’t deny as her head fell slightly to the side, that her ‘maybes’ brought her _peace_.

When the world seemed darker around her, Astrid opened her eyes. Sitting up, she felt her muscles beg for a long stretch as she noted that the sun was much lower in the sky than when she had first closed her eyes. Astrid peered around, recognizing they were still in the bay, and glanced down at Hiccup’s slender body curled up beside her, his knees tucked into his chest and his arms thrown over Toothless slumbering head. His breathing was even, peaceful, and Astrid blinked, her eyes feeling sticky, before the realization donned on her that they had both fallen asleep, the sun much lower in the sky and the tide much closer to them than it had been earlier because the day had passed by them through an accidental nap.

Astrid’s gaze swept to where Hiccup’s drawing was and frowned, disappointed Toothless’ tail had flicked sand over half of the image, the sketch only showing half of her parted lips now. Astrid looked out to sea and rubbed her eyes before gasping, her mind finally catching up with her body.

Reaching down, Astrid placed a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder to jar him awake and he groaned, swinging pitifully at her.

“Hiccup, wake up! It’s already late afternoon!”

“So?” he croaked, his voice catching Astrid by surprise when it was much lower when he was just waking up.

She blinked in an attempt to reign in her focus again, Hiccup rubbing at his eyes with clenched fists and Toothless exhaling harshly, a few grains of sand tasting a moment of what it felt like to fly when the force cascaded them across the beach.

“We were going to go back for lunch, so the Riders didn’t freak out about you being gone,” explained Astrid, shaking him again, “Plus the tide is coming in.”

Hiccup opened his sleep glazed eyes, Astrid swallowing in horror of herself when her mind catalogued how well he managed to look so cuddly yet suggestive. Sitting up, he stretched, and Astrid looked away, afraid of the thoughts slinking across her mind. Hiccup, however, seemed not to notice.

“Ah well,” he hummed, rubbing at his face lined with marks from Toothless’ scales while Toothless stood and gave a stretch of his own, “I like to flirt with danger.”

Hiccup chuckled a little and ran a hand through his hair before whisking his tired gaze at Astrid in alarm.

“Shit!” she cursed, clapping a hand over her mouth.

She was supposed to be using this whole time to flirt with Hiccup, both rarely alone together, but she had forgotten when they began such light-hearted fun. Viggo would surely have given her a merciless strike across the face for her hazy mindset, daylight something that wasn’t to be wasted, and she screwed her eyes shut, unforgiving toward herself.

Looking back on the events of the day, she had so many opportunities and no excuse not to utilize them. They were on a beach, by themselves, for the whole day and all she had taught him was a coin trick.

“Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly, sliding closer to her and bending his neck to look at her, but Astrid was desperate to make up the time she had lost; she opened her eyes at his voice and batted her eyelashes, running a suggestive finger down his arm.

“No, nothings wrong,” she purred, biting her lip and continuing to bat her eyelashes against her rosy cheeks, but Hiccup just erupted into a strained chuckle and pulled back awkwardly, standing up hurriedly and nearly losing his balance.

“Uh, I suppose-I um suppose we should-should head back,” he stammered, clearly uncomfortable as he nervously looked down on Astrid, unable to keep his gaze fixated on her as he analyzed the scenery around them, and Toothless led the way as he lumbered back to the path in the forest.

“Yep, right,” popped Astrid, just as self-conscious as Hiccup, lurching into a standing position and stumbling after Hiccup toward the path, both scurrying along and neither able to think of anything to say.

Astrid, failure making her weary, considered just pinning him against a tree and kissing him, the boldness of her affection potentially lighting his boyish desires, but elected against it when she imagined him shrieking ‘harassment’ and sprinting toward his dragon, hopping into the saddle, and shooting across the sky, making her lost and alone on an island for the second time in two weeks.

The only sound was the wind giggling through the leaves around them and Astrid inwardly applauded Hiccup’s speed, struggling to keep up with the fast pace he had set. He was obviously lost to the landscapes of his mind and was paying little attention to Astrid’s much shorter legs jogging to keep up, and Astrid couldn’t help but yelp when her foot caught on a protruding tree root and gravity shoved her to the ground, a twinge of pain seeping into her knee. She cursed herself when she had become obsessed with Hiccup, fearing everything he was possibly thinking regarding her, and abandoned concentrating on the ground beneath her feet.

“Oh shit, gods, I’m sorry,” groaned Hiccup, lunging toward her to help her back to her feet, his hands steadying her by clasping her elbows, her face flush with embarrassment from both her clumsiness and from how horribly she had failed that day, “I was so busy thinking. Please tell me you’re not hurt.”

Astrid looked up at Hiccup in humiliation-wondering if there was anything worse than being helped up by the guy who had practically ran from your flirting techniques-and his eyes wandered the expanse of her body in concern. Astrid shook her head.

“You shake your head,” retorted Hiccup, raising a single eyebrow, “but what’s that then?”

Releasing one hand from her elbow, he pointed down at her knee, Astrid curving to follow his gesture and scanning its bloody surface.

“That’s hardly being hurt,” scoffed Astrid, looking up at him again but he shook his head firmly.

“If it’s you, it’s too ‘hurt’ for my personal comfort. I’ll clean and wrap it when we get back to the Edge. It should only be a few more minutes.”

Astrid nodded and stepped gingerly forward, her knee singing in slight pain, and considered what Hiccup meant by ‘if it’s you’. Did that single her out? What did he think of her that rules applied differently to her than others? Most importantly, why was she consumed with what Hiccup thought of her?

Embracing the pain, Astrid began walking again and noted that Hiccup stuck by her side, scanning the path ahead of them for any more potential hazards.

“Sorry again. For going so fast,” he murmured, wringing his hands together as if ashamed.

“It’s fine,” assured Astrid gently, “I was lost to my mind and wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m typically not that clumsy.”

Hiccup laughed bitterly, looking at her with tender yet scorned eyes.

“I know that feeling, but I typically am that clumsy.”

Astrid chuckled and felt a weight alleviated from her shoulders when they bounced back into a steady comfort with each other again. Thinking back to all the moments she had failed, Astrid managed to bless herself with a little bit of grace when she admitted that she had enjoyed her day, oddly at peace around Hiccup. Her stumbling and obsession stemmed from her fear that her blind attempt at hitting on him had ruined the blossoming security they had pinned in each other. 

And while Viggo would be mad-enraged, really-to discover she had placed a higher value on Hiccup’s friendship than their success, Astrid came to the simple conclusion that maybe Viggo didn’t need to know everything.

“Where have you two been?!”

Snotlout’s face was bent into a disapproving scowl, his arms crossed as a father scolds their child, and Hiccup cast an exhausted gaze to the sky, already certain he would have a headache by the end of the conversation when it had hardly begun. Pressing deeper into the arena, Hiccup sighed, and Astrid followed behind him, smiling politely at the small congregation inside the arena.

“Uh...hello?” cried Snotlout, waving his hands in the air as Hiccup passed him, “Am I invisible? I believe I asked where you two were!”

Hiccup sighed again, louder this time, and kept his attention on the far side of the arena to snatch the small satchel he had insisted stay in the arena after the fifth time Snotlout had been cut by some razor sharp blade before strolling back toward Astrid, gesturing blindly for her to sit.

“Hiccup, it’s _fine_ ,” argued Astrid quietly, lacing her hands across her stomach, “It’s hardly even a cut.”

Hiccup gave no response, signaling that there was no option for a debate, and just continued gesturing for her to sit as Snotlout peered judgmentally around Hiccup to eye Astrid and the twins poked their heads over Hiccup’s shoulder, mumbling that they ‘wanted to see blood’. Astrid pursed her lips and rolled her eyes but still obeyed, dropping to the cool stone and leaning back on her hands while extending her knee for Hiccup to kneel beside her, peering into the satchel for the item he sought.

“I’d just like to point out that the twins were on for perimeter clean up and that didn’t happen,” contributed Fishlegs, protruding his finger in the air, still bitter that he was the only one who filled his boots with sand, “and Snotlout didn’t clean the stables like he was supposed to.”

“Yeah, well, _snitches get stitches_ , Fishlegs,” snapped Ruffnut huffily, putting her hands on her hips and snarling, Fishlegs grimacing in return before turning haughtily away to pet Meatlug.

“Oh, oh, I’ll be Hiccup!” mocked Snotlout, ignoring Fishlegs to wave his hand emphatically, pinching his nose and limping around, “She’s not a fucking toy, _gang_! We all need to fucking share our time with the girl, _gang_! Blah, blah, blah, boring fucking leadership stuff, _gang_!”

“He never actually said that,” defended Astrid, smiling kindly at Snotlout when he swept his gaze to her, “He said that I should be allowed to hang out with whomever I want. I asked Hiccup to show me what he does for fun!”

“Okay...first criticism to that blatant _lie,_ ” began Tuffnut, abandoning his project of hanging his dreads over the horns of his helmet in boredom, “‘Hiccup’ and ‘fun’ legally cannot be in the same sentence because Hiccup doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“Oh, would you guys stop?” puffed Heather, winking indiscreetly at Astrid-Astrid blushing profusely at Heather’s lack of tact-as Hiccup withdrew a white cloth and a jar of fresh water, popping the cork free with his teeth and soaking the cloth, “Hiccup and Astrid just wanted some alone time together!”

“ _Whoa!_ ” shrieked Snotlout, adjusting his helmet and raising his hands tentatively as he shot his gaze around cautiously, his eyes screaming like prey caught in a trap, “What do you mean ‘alone time’? That sounds like when my mom and dad would-”

“And no one wants to hear that story, Snotlout,” interrupted Fishlegs, scrunching his face in disgust.

Hiccup, wringing out the excess water from the cloth, winked at Astrid before leaning in closer to her, his cheek brushing against hers when he whispered in her ear, his vicinity sparking the immoral crannies of Astrid’s brain to make an appearance as she repressed a shiver.

“In reality, ‘alone time’ for Snotlout’s parents just meant being free of him and all his annoying attributes.”

Astrid giggled as Hiccup pulled his cheek away from hers again, sucking in a breath when Hiccup pressed the wet cloth to her knee, watching it tinge red as the water absorbed her blood, and Heather put her hands on her hips, scowling.

“ _Yes_ , Snotlout, alone time!” she hissed, her irritation evident but Snotlout scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, well, Hiccup is supposed to be here. Working. And doing stuff for the Edge. And... working.” 

“It was only one day, and it was my fault, Snotlout,” assured Astrid, growing increasingly guilty Hiccup was getting tormented over the coals for her idea, “I told him to prove he wasn’t a stick in the mud and have a day of fun!”

“See that’s where you lose me every time,” thrummed Tuffnut, stroking his chin, “because uhh...Hiccup is a stick in the mud.”

“Very ‘stick-ish’ and very ‘in the mud’” agreed Ruffnut and Hiccup sighed again, pulling gauze from the satchel.

“I think you guys are being unfair,” added Astrid quietly, afraid Hiccup’s sighs were annoyance with her for having suggested the idea, “I mean-”

“No offense, Blondie, but I know Hiccup. He doesn’t just _have fun_! He works and works some more and finishes his day by working!”

“Snotlout,” snapped Hiccup abruptly, looking up from his work on Astrid’s knee and glowering at a surprised Snotlout, “I took one day for me, okay? It’s fine.”

“One day for you?” choked Snotlout, grabbing at his throat, “but your life is dedicated to serving me!”

Hiccup glared unamusedly while Tuffnut crossed his arms and Ruffnut put her hands on her hips, both scowling in annoyance at Snotlout.

“Don’t you mean his life is dedicated to serving us?” scoffed Tuffnut, a single dread falling from the horns of his helmet and colliding with his shoulder, “We need Hiccup to constantly be waiting on our beck and call too!”

“Yeah, yeah,” dismissed Snotlout, flapping his hand abrasively to them, “Of course I meant us, but what do you mean you’re taking time for yourself?!”

Snotlout’s sharp voice echoed around the arena, his eyes glazed over in crisis, and Hiccup glared again, finishing wrapping Astrid’s knee and lending his attention to the final knot.

“Is it too tight?” he whispered, looking at her with eyes she imagined her mother might look at her with-concern laced with… _love_ -but Astrid banned the thought from her mind as she shook her head gently, continuing to watch, mesmerized, at how Hiccup worked so gracefully with such dexterous hands.

“Oh…my…Thor! It’s happening you guys!” cried Snotlout abruptly, adjusting his helmet again and tucking his hands fearfully into himself, “Hiccup is branching out! Just like we practiced! This is not a drill, I repeat, _this is not a drill!_ ”

“Oh, that means we're up!” hollered Ruffnut, sprinting forward to tower over Hiccup, grabbing at his arms in an attempt to pin them behind his back.

“What in the Thor are you doing?” grumbled Hiccup, attempting to fight against Ruffnut as she continued to wrestle his arms, Ruffnut grunting from the effort.

“I got his foot!” trilled Tuffnut, skipping forward before collapsing onto Hiccup’s legs and sitting on them, releasing a ‘whew’ and leaning back on his hands.

“Thor above, get off!” huffed Hiccup irritatedly, Astrid watching amusedly from beside him.

“No, Hiccup,” whimpered Snotlout pathetically, pointing a quivering finger at him, “This is for your own good. Well mostly the collective group’s good, but you can’t go branching off- _you just can’t!_ We need you to do all the work so I can do nothing and spend my time calling you degrading names!”

“Oh, Astrid,” sang Heather, ignoring the twins wrestling Hiccup and Snotlout’s whimpers as he begged Hiccup to not struggle, “I need to ask you something.”

“Sure, what’s up?” replied Astrid, looking away from Hiccup to squint at Heather, using one hand to cover her eyes from the persistent sun. 

“When is your birthday?”

“My birthday?” tittered Astrid, “Bit odd to ask, but it’s the second of May.”

Fishlegs jotted it down in a notebook, nodding to Heather to confirm he had it and Heather smiled down cheerily at Astrid again.

“Thanks!”

“Why are you asking?” questioned Astrid curiously, still squinting upwards as several ‘oh, for fuck’s sake!’ spilled from Hiccup’s mouth and ‘you’re wasting what minimal strength you have Hiccup; this is an intervention!’ splattered to the ground from Snotlout’s.

“So we can celebrate your birthday!”

“You celebrate birthdays?”

Astrid regretted voicing the question the moment she said it, wishing she had just laughed and played along when the entire arena fell into silence, all eyes glued on her. Astrid grew squeamish, wondering how suspicious it might be if she ran away, while Ruffnut abandoned Hiccup’s arms in her shock, Snotlout and Tuffnut dropped their jaws, and Heather and Fishlegs shared a look of surprise.

“Hold on, you don’t celebrate your birthday?” muttered Tuffnut, blinking repeatedly as if such a thing couldn’t be believed.

“Who doesn’t celebrate the one day that it's acceptable to make it all about yourself?” breathed Snotlout, horrified such a day would be wasted.

Astrid swallowed, her mouth and throat suddenly extremely parched, and tucked her chin into her chest in humiliation.

When she was with Hiccup she had begun to feel like she had always been on the Edge, as much a member of the family as any of the other Riders, but this came as a sharp reminder that she wasn’t like these people and she didn’t belong here.

Every year the second of May passed, Viggo would simply remind her that an increase of her age meant an increase in duty. Birthdays meant more work, which meant more chance for failure, which meant greater punishments. They weren’t cause for celebration.

Everyone continued to gawk at her, not a single soul knowing how to breach the subject, before Hiccup shoved Tuffnut off his legs and stood.

“Hey, does anyone want to watch me make a coin disappear?”

Astrid, sniffling, whisked her gaze to him in surprise, his caring eyes landing on her for just a moment before Snotlout scoffed, resting his hands on his hips.

“No one can make a coin disappear, dumbass.”

“Well I can, _dumbass_ ,” retorted Hiccup sharply, holding up the coin, “Watch carefully.”

Hiccup performed the trick perfectly, impressing Astrid he had picked it up so quickly. While she knew he was skilled with his hands, his fast progress still caught her by surprise when he had only practiced the trick a dozen times.

“Oh my Thor…” groaned Snotlout, looking around him frantically for any sign of the coin before pointing a scorned finger at Hiccup, “This is bullshit. Bring it back. Stop toying with my mind like this, Hiccup! I’m already fragile from your decision to branch out!”

Snotlout sobbed, bringing his hand up to his mouth while his eyes wavered in dismay, and Hiccup snickered.

“It’s right here,” he assured Snotlout, ‘pulling’ the coin from behind Snotlout’s ear as the stocky boy watched in horror, feeling his hair for more treasures.

“Hey! Why does Hiccup get a magic coin blessed by the gods and we don’t?” complained Tuffnut, the only thing he gleaned from the trick being all the things Hiccup had that he didn’t, and Hiccup rolled his eyes.

“If you want the magic coin, go and get it!” grunted Hiccup, hurling the coin as far as he could, ogling it as it soared out of the arena and somewhere to the grass far beyond, inhaling as the twins and Snotlout chased frantically after it, Snotlout screeching ‘it’s mine, dammit!’.

Hiccup turned his attention back to Astrid and offered her his hand, helping her up for what she was certain was the third time that day, and she smiled gratefully but sheepishly, chewing on the inside of her lip. 

“Ignore them,” muttered Hiccup, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go, his eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips before settling back onto her eyes again, his face tinged pink, “Birthdays around here are just chaotic anyway.”

“Hey, Fishlegs and I work hard on everyone’s birthday!” declared Heather, clearly snubbed by Hiccup’s criticism as she crossed her arms and frowned, but Hiccup made no amendments to his proclamation, only raising his hands in surrender and heading to the exit of the arena.

Astrid extensively contemplated the sickly feeling that had encompassed her so grippingly only moments earlier and gazed after Hiccup as he walked. Blurting out desperately, Astrid felt a splinter of awareness seep into her soul at how important it was becoming to her to really belong on the Edge.

“Hey, Hiccup?”

Hiccup spun around and looked at Astrid expectedly, his eyes embracing hers as she wrung her hands, speaking slowly and disjointedly.

“Umm I think-well-I think I’d maybe like to take up those dragon riding lessons from a string of sinew with a metal leg,” she mumbled reticently, looking up with a smirk, “even if it is a rip off.”

Hiccup grinned and nodded enthusiastically, his eyes burning with a wonder that matched her coin trick, a smirk bleeding into his grin.

“Well then this string of sinew with a metal leg says: we start bright and early tomorrow morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So good old me has a lot to say! Just kidding I only have one thing to say:  
> Since this is my first multi-chaptered fic and I've only ever written teen one-shots, I am not acutely familiar with the line between teen and mature. Why do I say this?  
> I deliberated over whether I should bump this fic up to mature for this chapter because the beginning has suggestions of mature themes and I would never want someone to read my fic and be like 'whoa!! this is not teen!!' However, I eventually elected to keep this teen for now because 1) no character mentions anything specific-or no lewd terms are directly stated. It's kept vague with only implications of what might be passing through each ones minds. 2) I'm unsure how mature I want to go (I am not typically an explicit themes writer) regarding sexual content or violence and 3) if I do decide to make things more mature, it won't be for a little bit yet. A lot still has to happen between now and when I would even consider making something mature, whether in regards to sexual content or violence.  
> I say all this because I'd love to hear anyone's thoughts on the matter-whether you agree with my decision to keep it teen or have an opposing view.   
> *exhales* Well, that was the next chapter! I love any and all comments and kudos on this fic! Thank you all, enjoy the holidays, and if you're like me, good luck on finals!


	6. Peek A Boo! Oh Shit, I Think I Love You...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Astrid's first day as a Rider-in-training...and it's a rather exhausting thing to learn how to ride a dragon at the same time as attempting to flirt with The Impenetrable Man, as Astrid increasingly believes him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! I live!! (Though I burned through trail mix and Bublys at midnight to get it here!)  
> So I'm through with my finals and I'm hoping *crosses fingers* to get back onto a somewhat normal schedule for this story, however, I make no promises because the holidays are never as relaxing as I hope they are and I'm still working lots!  
> Ah, but I digress! Who cares about me when there is a new chapter?  
> I hope you enjoy!  
> (Note: móðir is the Nordic word meaning 'mother')

_“Some people talk to animals. Not many listen though._

_That’s the problem.”_

_\- A.A. Milne_

* * *

Astrid had just thought Hiccup was utilizing a common saying-an axiom. It was _common_ for people to say: “We start bright and early tomorrow morning!” It was _less common_ for people to actually follow through with the ‘early’ segment of the saying. Well, less common for people who weren’t named Hiccup, apparently.

There he stood several feet from the door to his hut, a grin plastered on his face as he swung his hands back and forth at his sides, and Astrid rubbed at her eyes, feeling them squish beneath her fingers as greens and blues haunted the back of her eyelids, before opening them again and using her hand to covering her still sleep-stickied eyes from the exuberant sun that had dedicated itself to plaguing their freshly awoken pupils.

“Ready?”

“Uhh…” croaked Astrid, blinking repeatedly as she watched Hiccup continue to contentedly swing his gangly arms and attempting to process what exactly he expected her to be ready for.

While Astrid’s body was technically risen from blessed slumber, her mind was still cradled in sleep and her thoughts churned through the drowsy mud swamping the clogs of her usual thinking speed in the attempt to understand what Hiccup seemed to be asking her. Still slogging to catch up, she pressed a finger into the corner of her eye by her nose and pulled it away, grimacing at the crust that had been lodged there from her rest and rubbing her fingers together to get it off of her.

“For dragon training!” elucidated Hiccup with a melodious chirp, hopping onto the ball of his foot for a moment despite his increased height over her before falling back on his heel, clasping his hands in front of him before letting them swing at his sides again.

Stewing in irritation, Astrid wondered why he couldn’t seem to just _stay_ _still_.

“What time is it?”

“According to my daymarks, accurate as always,” trilled Hiccup, giving a curt nod in his assurance and tightening his cheeks, “it’s a few minutes to eight o’clock in the morning.”

“Eight o’clock?! By Freya, Hiccup, are you fucking _mad_?”

Hiccup provided no answer to Astrid’s outburst, her one hand coming up to rub at her eye for a second time as he pondered her proclamation. He only seemed to contemplate it for a few moments though before his eyes grappled onto something shinier and he dragged his gaze up the length of her, noticing how different she appeared when having just risen from sleep. He inhaled sharply when he caught himself appreciating more than was gentlemanly of him and blinked, his pupils having consumed the forest of his irises and made his gaze dark as he met her skeptical eyes.

He tried to smile, but quickly learned his body had broken into a state of disrepair when his gaze dropped once more and he registered that Astrid wasn’t wearing her breast bindings and was left with a squished kind of repugnance stuck on his face. Hiccup screamed internally, mentally slapping his forehead in exasperation, when he realized he wasn’t smiling but looked more like he was taking a massive _shit_.

Astrid, however, clearly didn’t appreciate the judgement she read off him and just crossed her arms, making Hiccup’s mind scream some more, his body steadily melting into a state of hormonal despair.

Hiccup cleared his throat uncomfortably, begging his voice to not crack in front of her, and managed to stammer out a disjointed sentence.

“You know what? I’ll just umm-I’ll give you a minute. Actually, I’ll just-I’ll meet you down there. There being the training arena. Where we train. Yep. Okay, I’m just gonna-yeah, I’m gonna go.”

Hiccup gave an awkward and poorly timed mixture of a wave and a salute before promptly scurrying away from the door with speed that implied Astrid had the Scourge of Odin rather than simply a lack of breast bindings, and Astrid smirked, rolling her eyes when he mumbled incoherently to himself, lunged onto Toothless, and dove from the platform.

“He’s certainly _something_ ,” murmured Astrid mindlessly to herself, closing the door again and resisting the urge to toss herself back into bed as she begrudgingly clothed herself.

Picking up the linen of her bindings, Astrid raised an eyebrow as she teased with the idea of how Hiccup might react if she abandoned it for the day before ultimately deciding such a thing would lack practicality. Plus, she didn’t want to kill the boy, she determined as she fixed her hair.

Astrid sauntered down the arena stairs and peered around the arena when she saw Fishlegs and Heather also present, Heather loading some small targets into the baskets hanging from Windshear’s saddle and Fishlegs tending to Meatlug while chattering to an ignorant Hiccup.

Astrid looked at Hiccup, his prosthetic crossed over his leg as he leaned against Toothless and scanned a book, steadily proving himself a dedicated reader, and noted his hair was more ruffled than it had been earlier as if he’d been pulling at it in distraught and self-discipline.

“All of you are psychopaths for being up this early,” joked Astrid with a snigger before she fell prey to a yawn that seemed to consume her whole body, tears budding at the edges of her eyes as she pressed deeper into the arena.

Fishlegs offered no response to Astrid’s jab and simply waved cheerily, but Heather hiccuped a laugh, dropping another target in her basket and throwing a teasing glance over her shoulder.

“Says the girl who is also awake this early?”

“Only ‘cause Mr. Bright and Early made me!” defended Astrid hastily, pointing an accusatory finger at Hiccup who looked up in utter obliviousness, dropping his jaw and widening his eyes in a claim of innocence, but Heather snickered and shrugged her shoulders.

“Well I’m up early because Windshear and I really need to practice her tail accuracy, so we’ll be in the forest until closer to lunch.”

Fishlegs nodded in understanding but Heather loured and placed an indignant hand on her hip, bearing daggers into Hiccup’s skull when he had buried his nose into his book once more.

“I was talking to _you_ , Book Boy.”

Astrid snickered, covering her grin with a clenched fist over her mouth, and Hiccup looked up once more, as dazed as he had been the first time.

“What did you need? What?” mumbled Hiccup, closing his book and running a hand through his hair as he looked expectantly at Fishlegs, Astrid unable to contain a second snort.

“Over here, Dazed Dagbjørn!” called Heather, waving a hand to gain Hiccup’s attention, and Hiccup blushed sheepishly at her, “Did you even hear what I said?”

“Uhh…” warbled Hiccup, his mouth hanging open as his gaze darted around, looking for the answer in the cracks of the stone encompassing the arena, “No?”

“I’ll be practicing my tail accuracy in the forest until lunch,” repeated Heather slowly, Astrid snorting again.

“Oh!” chirped Hiccup, clasping his hands together and smiling, “That’s great! Uh, thanks for telling me.”

“Gods above, how you’ve lived this long is a miracle from Odin himself,” drawled Heather, hopping on Windshear and Hiccup rolled his eyes, mocking her words as he smacked his lips open and closed several times, “What was that?!”

“Nothing, móðir!” responded Hiccup hastily, grinning, and Heather rolled her eyes again, patting Windshear before the graceful dragon took off, leaving them all behind as Fishlegs wiggled his fingers in a blissful wave.

Astrid smirked and remembered how Hiccup had complained of Heather’s maternal nature, finally seeing it take effect. Astrid was certain, on Heather’s part, in came from a deep respect and fondness for Hiccup, but Hiccup just resented the harsh pecks from Mother Hen and Astrid catalogued it, noting that Hiccup needed room to spread his wings in a relationship. 

Astrid relinquished thoughts of Hiccup when Fishlegs clapped his hands, beaming at her as a parent might praise the first steps of their child.

“So today is the day, huh?” he hummed ecstatically, looking at her in expectation that she would reciprocate his elation, “Your first lesson! Oh, I remember my first lesson. I took five pages of notes! Oh! Oh! And then there was my first _private_ lesson with Hiccup. I took eleven pages of notes that time!”

“I have to take notes?” whined Astrid, grimacing when she not only had to be awake at such an Odin-forsaken hour but was growing increasingly annoyed about all the _effort_ this was lending itself to be.

“No, you don’t have to take notes,” interjected Hiccup, jerking his book back into the bag on the side of his saddle and smiling supportively at Astrid, “Everyone learns differently and if I was to guess what kind of student you are, I would presume that notes would be largely useless to you anyway.”

“You think you know what kind of student I am?” quipped Astrid, testing how assured he was in his statement as she raised a quizzical eyebrow and twitched the sides of her mouth.

“I think I have more of a handle on what kind of student I believe you’ll be than you think I do, yes,” retorted Hiccup swiftly, raising an eyebrow of his own and crossing his arms when testing her defiance.

“I find it interesting you used the word ‘handle’. Doesn’t that imply you’ve had a chance to grip me?”

Astrid knew the game she was playing. She made a fairly confident bet that she could pinpoint _exactly_ what would sweep the expanse of a twenty-year old man’s mind at the idea of his hands gripping her flesh, and yet she was surprised when Hiccup didn’t seem to collapse into a puddle of flustered boy like he had earlier that morning, rather sliding his mouth into a side smile that implied as much as his darkened eyes.

“How do you know I haven’t? One doesn’t have to use their hands to _grip_ something.”

Astrid was steadily impressed by the Dragon Master. However, he just flashed his cards.

Earlier in the day, Astrid would have been certain Hiccup was a cluster of awkward, clumsy, and naive in one body, yet he was steadily proving she was meeting her match in banter that implied far more than what left their mouths-his capacity to imagine the indecent and yet keep a pure face impressive-and she felt her heart lunge to beat alongside his.

Curious as to how far she could stretch the conversation, Astrid breathed in and opened her mouth, her lips already curved upwards in a smirk of what she was about to imply, but her words were captured and forced to slither back down her throat at the emergence of a strained laugh, its heaviness giving it little distance as it landed with a wet splat on the stone ground.

In searching for the source of the sound, Astrid traced her eyes to Fishlegs, his mouth forced open wide from his laugh but his eyes drooped as they screamed discomfort when Hiccup and Astrid had both forgotten he was there. He ran a disquieted hand over the bristles of the brush he was gripping with such force and shuffled his feet as though he wanted to run but lacked the courage to.

Astrid flung her eyes to Hiccup when Fishlegs opened and closed his mouth several times yet no words fell from his lips, and found Hiccup’s face a storm of surprise, embarrassment, and concern over his floundering friend, Fishlegs gulping in air like it was a dwindling commodity.

Seeming to have found his footing, albeit barely, Fishlegs managed to squeak out a stammering sentence, his face red like he had already utilized the air he had been so desperately drinking and his eyes unable to meet either Hiccup’s or Astrid’s as he began to slink closer to where Meatlug lay.

“I’m-I’m going to-I’m gonna go find some-somewhere else to uh-to uh-to tend to my Meaty.”

Turning away to scurry toward Meatlug, Fishlegs didn’t wait for an answer, despite Hiccup raising his finger to offer one, and promptly fluttered off on Meatlug, leaving Astrid and Hiccup to the company of one another.

Eyeing Hiccup as he watched Fishlegs grow smaller in the distance, Astrid inhaled deeply, tucking her chin closer to her chest as it rose.

It couldn’t be denied she had fooled around with time the past couple of days. However, today her axe struck the hypothetical mutton and, feeling she had found comfort alongside Hiccup, she wouldn’t waste her time today. With Hiccup and her alone, she would make significant strides.

“So...when do I get on my dragon?”

“Ho, the lady thinks she’s ready to just hop onto her dragon and fly?” thrummed Hiccup, throwing an amused smirk over his shoulder, and Toothless warbled haughtily, hopping back and forth on his paws.

“You’re telling me that you _didn’t_ just hop onto a dragon and fly?” quipped Astrid hastily, shimmying closer to Hiccup and watching the way Toothless licked the roof of his mouth, clearly remembering the first time Hiccup flew with distaste.

“I don’t count.”

“Isn’t that convenient?” 

“How have you managed to get us off topic before we’ve even begun?” chortled Hiccup, looking at the sky above them and absent-mindedly thrumming his fingers on his leg, and Astrid raised her hands in compliance, resisting the urge to hum that it was awfully _convenient_ Hiccup was ignoring the _convenience_ that he just _flew_ , before lowering herself to the chilled stone lining the bottom of the arena and crossing her legs. She looked up at Hiccup in a subtly submissive way and gestured for him to begin the lesson, her mouth clamped shut.

“While you are correct in your estimation that most of dragon training occurs on a dragon, there are several fundamentals that _must_ be taught on the ground or you could be put in serious danger, and I’d never want that.”

Astrid curved her lips into a dainty smile, tilting her head to the side when Hiccup glanced fondly down at her. Pacing the ground in front of her, he continued.

“What do _you_ think is the first fundamental of dragon riding?”

“Gods, this is interactive?” protested Astrid, tipping her head back as she complained and leaning back onto her palms. Hiccup however, incredibly used to the complaints that crashed in as soon as he began speaking, only smirked, crossing his arms as he peered down at her dramatic frame, her head still tipped back and his eyes running along the muscles of her extended neck.

“For you? Yes.”

“What do you mean ‘for me’?” huffed Astrid, pulling her head up to glare daggers into his amused simper and huffing, “Excuse me, I’d like to report a case of being picked on!” 

Astrid raised her hand and flickered her gaze around the circumference of the arena, looking for a supervisor to whom she could complain despite knowing they were alone, but Hiccup just laughed amusedly, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes.

“You’re not being picked on. Gods, the drama of this one!” Addressing Toothless, Hiccup jerked his thumb at Astrid with a coy grin and Toothless chuffed his agreement before Hiccup peered down to direct his words to Astrid again, nodding. “Yes, I am asking you questions because I believe that is the learning style you’d best utilize. I know the learning style of every Rider on this island because I believe it’s beneficial-for teacher and student-to utilize them.”

“Hiccup Haddock, are you bragging?” teased Astrid slyly, tilting her head to gaze at him with a playful eye and resting her weight on one hand when she brought her other up to waggle a mischievous finger at him, but Hiccup remained stationary, continuing to smirk as if he knew something she didn’t.

“No, I typically don’t lend myself a bragging type. So in this particular case, I’m trying to demonstrate that you believe you are safest from behind the walls you have fortified over time. You believe if you remain aloof-uncaring, austere, uncommunicative- you won’t have to admit, to both me and yourself, the possibility that you don’t have a quick answer for something. You dodged my question. If I were to place my best guess, I would wager it's because you fear making a mistake. I’d also wager that it’s not just making a mistake that you fear; I’d venture a guess that you fear teachers-mentors-in your life. Where this fear-this distance-comes from you alone could know, but I want to show you that there is nothing to fear about not knowing something. I swear, on the lives of the Hiccup Haddocks who prefaced me, I will never resent any answer you give if it’s given in honest effort and participation. I will, however, be disappointed if you let your own fear block your immense capacity to learn. You’re an incredibly smart woman, that much is apparent, and I’d hate to see intelligence beaten by an unwillingness to embrace the unknown expanses of one's world.”

For the first time in many years of her life, Astrid had no quick-witted response. Left speechless, she could only let her mouth hang open in shock, Hiccup having knocked a hole so large through her defenses, she didn’t even know where to begin to repair it. He hadn’t just sent the axe straight into the target...he had split the target in two.

She had spent nearly a lifetime under Viggo’s tutelage where a wrong answer was deserving of punishment. Astrid feared a mistake, feared her teacher, because that was the way Viggo liked his ‘classroom’ to be. He believed that if Astrid _didn’t_ fear him, he wasn’t doing it correctly. She’d never had a teacher who believed in a personalized style of learning before, as Hiccup seemed to elude, but what she had had was a teacher who struck fear into her heart when it wasn’t done his way.

So she said nothing-slightly afraid that if she _did_ say something, her entire reality would shatter into nothing but white glass-and kept her jaw slack, her eyelashes dusting her cheeks every so often when she blinked, her gaze stuck on Hiccup when she wondered if he was even _real_.

Breaking the stagnancy her world had fallen captive to, Hiccup sighed dejectedly when he was disappointed in himself for coming on too strong and collapsed to the stone floor to cross his legs across from her, hoping he might appear less of an authority and more of an equal. He shifted until their knees were only a few inches apart, her mouth clamping shut as she swallowed and his gaze becoming enamoured with his own lap.

“I’m sorry. That was harsh and-and-and unprofessional of me,” mumbled Hiccup, looking up at Toothless when the large dragon, having previously been grooming himself, lumbered over and plopped his head on both of their knees, “Look, Astrid, I will never claim to know your story. That remains none of my business unless _you should choose_ to share it with me. The things I said were just guesses I shouldn’t have made because I have no knowledge regarding the experiences you’ve had with learning. So I do, _truly_ , apologize if I offended you.”

Hiccup paused to take a breath, his finger following the irregular line of Toothless’ scales in his thought, and Astrid sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, her heartbeat erratic in his sincerity. He had opened up the journal of his soul to her in his apology and Astrid both longed to feel its pages and feared handling them, unwilling to stain the pages with her irreparably dirty hands.

In her silence, Hiccup breathed in and continued, gaining the courage to look into her eyes, the cascading waterfall of hers shattering against the lively forestry of his.

“All that being said, you told me you wanted to be a dragon rider. Now, if you’ve changed your mind, that’s okay, but otherwise you know my position on that subject. I won’t force anything; I will only guide. So that means you have to take a certain level of responsibility. In conclusion, I think this would go a lot smoother if you’d trust me.”

Sniffling, Astrid rubbed her nose on her shoulder and nodded, acknowledging that she understood Hiccup’s ultimatum.

“Astrid, I don’t want you to struggle and find these lessons a pain in your ass. I _want you_ to experience the freedom, the thrill, the exhilaration that comes with riding a dragon. I _want you_ to succeed; I want to offer you the best path possible to get you there; I want you to look back on each lesson with pride in yourself. Perhaps it’ll help if I share what my thought process is and, since he was just here, I’ll use Fishlegs as an example. Fishlegs is both a mathematical and auditory learner. So when I taught him dragon riding, I lectured, he wrote, and that worked for him. Tuffnut, on the other hand, is neither a mathematical nor an auditory learner. He prefers to function at a visual and kinetic learning level-the concept of dragon see, dragon do. I perform, he performs.”

“I suppose you really _do_ know them all,” mumbled Astrid, playing with her chipped nail and keeping her gaze fixated on her lap, ashamed Hiccup should have to apologize for her shortcomings.

Astrid didn’t like the idea of Hiccup taking on the burdens of her own brokenness. 

“I do,” confirmed Hiccup with a nod, “because, as their leader, I want them to achieve success. _Just like you_ . So in watching you teach me that coin trick, I believe you are a verbal learner. You like to flesh out a concept by vocalizing it. I also believe you are an independent student. I’ll guide you, but I cannot see you being content until you feel you’ve run the path all on your own. All that said...do you _trust me_ enough to see this through?”

Astrid spent a moment mulling over the question.

 _If only he knew_ , she thought, and she rubbed at her nose in her humiliation. She was certain he didn’t need to ask any of the other Riders that question. He didn’t have to take on the brokenness of every other Rider. It was only her.

Astrid looked up at him, his eyes unwavering with such... _goodness_ . It left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had grown up believing that good and bad were simply unnatural standards the pious had put in place to fortify their own piety. There was no good-no _true good_. Everyone’s heart burned with a black streak that loomed in the background at all times, waiting with a horrifying grin to consume the person whole. 

Astrid let her eyes roam Hiccup’s. He wasn’t truly good, no matter how calm his eyes claimed to be. 

_Somewhere there’s a chip in the glass,_ Astrid assured herself, _and when I find it, I’ll shatter the illusion he presents so fully._

Astrid blinked, crumpling back to her reality when she realized she had ventured off in her own embarrassment. To justify her own brokenness, she swaddled herself in the comfort of exposing his brokenness.

Yet his eyes were still locked onto hers in elated expectation so she nodded, studying the beam that ripped across his face as a shooting star split the night sky, and much like one was lucky to spot a shooting star, so Astrid somehow felt lucky, as if his smile were reserved for her alone.

“Thank you,” he finished, as if he owed her any thanks, before scratching at his eyebrow, “Then I suppose I’ll ask again: what do you believe is the most fundamental foundation of dragon riding?”

Astrid swallowed in the hopes her anxiety might follow when the realization of what she had agreed to hit her full force. She had spent a lifetime behind her walls-no one came in and she never went out-and somehow, with a kind voice and guiding hand, Hiccup managed to convince her to let down her guard and take a step outside of the fortress she had defended so resolutely for twenty years.

Astrid wondered how he _possibly_ managed to bypass all the offenses of her heart and mind to pull her from the cramped room of her fortress and breathe the outside air again. Normally when someone tried to ‘get to know her’, all alarms would blare in her mind until the hair on the back of her neck stood up to signal she needed to barricade herself in.

Then there was Hiccup. Simple Hiccup who clumsily wandered across the expanse of her heart, fell through the door when he tripped over his own feet, and gave his boyish grin as he led her free of all the traps she had never been brave enough to let go of.

She didn’t know why, but something about Hiccup Haddock _did_ make her trust him. So with trembling hands and timid eyes, she dared speak with a heavy honesty such as she had never dared speak with before.

“Umm...knowing one’s dragon?”

“That’s an element of it,” encouraged Hiccup happily, nodding his head, “But to put it in simpler terms, the cornerstone of dragon riding is _relationship_.”

Astrid sucked in a trembling breath and nodded her understanding, her heart racing in her chest after having taken a dive to her stomach at the idea of answering, but tried to silence the waves of her mind by noting that Hiccup had kept true to his word.

While other men had lied to her-sometimes _just_ to make a fool of her-Hiccup had told her that he wouldn’t resent an answer given in honest effort and he had followed his words in action. It gave her a drop of confidence to answer the next question as faithfully as she had the last.

“So yesterday, you made a comment to me along the lines of ‘a dragon is a large beast to control’ and I told you that was wrong. In the light of the cornerstone being relationship, what do you think was wrong about the statement?” asked Hiccup, bringing his hand up to rest the webbing of his thumb on the bridge of his nose, peering at her with tired eyes when he attempted to stifle a yawn.

She knew he wasn’t sleeping well. 

“I shouldn’t control my dragon?”

“Exactly right!” praised Hiccup enthusiastically, pushing through his exhaustion to fill his eyes with light, and Astrid twitched her eyebrow, “That’s actually exactly right. Since you are functioning in a relationship, neither is in control of the other when in the air. Rather it’s about teamwork-push and pull, give and take. You understand?”

Hiccup, previously running his finger over a crack in the stone, looked up to gain Astrid’s eyes, following the line of his finger, and she nodded, chewing on the inside of her lip.

“Alright then, since you’re working as a team, what do you think is the second fundamental foundation of dragon riding?”

Astrid pondered the question for a moment, letting her mind run its hands over the texture of the question and sucking it a trembling breath when she fell into a state of panic again, her mind grappling with the question and lacking any answer. Trying to keep her breathing steady, her hands continue to tremble and her gaze fixated on the way they quivered, pausing for a moment to wonder how she managed to fall so far to shatter so dramatically.

 _I can’t even answer the most basic question from a man I could kill in under a second_ , she chastened herself, before looking up when Hiccup cupped her hands, consumed with tremors, in his, steady and stable.

Hiccup’s hands against hers was steadily becoming her favourite thing, she was certain, and she let her eyes run over the curve of his smile, noticing for the first time the small scar on his chin. Letting his hands stable her, she dared wonder how it came to mark his skin.

“Any answer is okay. Even if it’s wrong,” he soothed quietly, “Picking up a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit isn’t failure. It just pushes you closer to success by showing you that that piece simply isn’t the right one.”

Astrid considered teasing him about how cliche he sounded, certain he would tip his head back with a laugh in the way Astrid was steadily growing fond of, but instead just nodded and licked her lips, ignorant to the way Hiccup watched her mouth with an artists attentiveness and swallowed slowly.

“I would-uh-shit...I would umm guess that it’s understanding?”

“You’re dancing around it,” offered Hiccup thoughtfully, clicking his teeth together momentarily before squinting his eyes as he tried again, “How do you and I reach a state of understanding with each other?”

 _We don’t_ , mused Astrid inwardly, _since my flirting still hasn’t made so much as a dent_.

“Talking?” she offered, tucking her musing deep within her, and Hiccup beamed, his cheeks overwhelming his eyes, the tiniest amount of baby fat still clinging to his face.

“Exactly! Communication! Your dragon can recognize the waves of your voice to know when you’re scared, happy, angry, and they’ll respond accordingly. However, there are many facets to communication. For example, you and I speak to each other to reach understanding but I _also_ recognized I had hurt your feelings yesterday morning by understanding your scowl meant unhappiness.”

“Gods, don’t bring that nightmare up,” bemoaned Astrid, bringing her hands up to her face and dragging them down her cheeks, her bottom eyelids peeling away from her eyes slightly, as Hiccup surged a single puff of laughter from his chest, his shoulders giving a subtle hop of joy. Astrid shook her head at the memory, a smile teasing at the curvature of her lips, and Hiccup raised his hands in surrender, making no more note of it as he continued.

“The point is your dragon will be the same. When you’re in the air, your dragon can sense when your body is relaxed and when it's tense. They can sense your breathing, your heartbeat, your emotion. Similarly, as you come to know your dragon, you will learn their body language. You’ll know when they hear something, see something, fear something. How do you think that connects with the concept of not controlling each other?”

“I need to respect the communications of my dragon.”

“Gods, you make this too easy on me,” hummed Hiccup, a grin splitting across his face as he leaned back onto his hands, the thick tufts of his hair shuffling around aimlessly in the wind. 

Astrid shrugged, puffing her lips subtly, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the wind promptly blowing it back around the curve of her face.

“Well I’ve heard the student’s success reflects their teacher.”

Hiccup slung his head down in an attempt to mask his flushed face, his mouth unable to contain his grin and his eyes twinkling from the compliment before he cleared his throat and stood, brushing off the dust on the back of his pants.

“Would the lady be interested in looking at dragons now?”

“I thought you said I wasn’t ready,” remarked Astrid, pushing herself upwards to stand beside Hiccup with an inquisitive gaze, but Hiccup shook his head gently and smiled.

“I said you weren’t ready to hop on a dragon and fly, but that doesn’t mean you can’t begin forming a bond with your dragon. Which brings me to my third lesson. What were the first two?”

“Relationship and communication!” trilled Astrid, hopping excitedly onto the balls of her feet when she knew the answer, the thought of still being shorter than Hiccup even on her tippy-toes screeching across the expanse of her mind before being lost to the void of all the other thoughts she didn’t dare address.

“Perfect, and why are each important?”

“Relationship is important because I’m not controlling my dragon. It’s push and pull. Communication is important because we are a team. I need to respect what my dragon is communicating.”

“The lady speaks with such precise eloquence,” praised Hiccup fluidly, tossing a smile over his shoulder when he had begun to move closer to a large door along the side of the arena as she spoke, “Now, before I continue, I want to make it clear that it is ultimately your choice what dragon you want to ride and so the decision rests on your shoulders, not mine. All the same, I spent last night scanning our island census so I might provide some options for you and a particular dragon crossed my mind who I believe will be perfect for you. I hope you don’t think that presumptuous.”

Astrid shook her head, less interested in Hiccup’s niceties and more interested in what lay behind the door Hiccup had paused in front of.

“Perfect for me?” she hummed, her gaze flickering back disjointedly between Hiccup and the door, and Hiccup nodded.

“She reminds me a lot of you,” he elucidated, moving away from Astrid once more to rest a calm palm on a lever situated near the door before turning back to her with a coy smirk, “Would you like to meet her?”

Astrid nodded fervently, far too anxious to meet the dragon Hiccup seemed to think perfect for her to make any quips about how he was being slow on _purpose_ , and she brought a hand up to her chest, feeling the increased _lub-dub_ thrumming beneath her ribcage while Hiccup smiled tenderly before pressing the level down firmly, the mechanism churning into motion as it raised the barrel-like bar free from the door. As it rose, Hiccup abandoned the lever to saunter closer to the door, his hands gripping the two handlebars confidently as he gave a hard jerk, both doors swinging wide until Hiccup stood, so small in comparison, before what look like a black void, the persistent sheen of the sun making the room seem unlit.

Astrid held her breath and waited a moment, fully expecting the dragon to come bolting free and trample over Hiccup’s lean frame much as the boars from the boar pit had-squealing in lieu of their bestowed freedom-but nothing occurred, the wind just whistling by as contentedly as it had before.

Hiccup, however, sauntered forward with the same confidence he had gripped the door with until he became as much a part of the void as the dragon was and Astrid placed a hand over her eyes, peering into the dark in fear of what might splurge forth and too hesitant to move forward enough to see.

“Uh, Hiccup?” she called nervously, considering the possibility this was just an elaborate prank to make her look foolish, but Hiccup’s voice hummed back to her.

“I’m still here.”

“Why won’t she come out? Does she not like me?” questioned Astrid, growing more concerned that this was the worst idea she’d had in a _long_ time, all because she was consumed with a spurt of desperation to be like the Riders, but a tender giggle resonated from the void.

“She doesn’t know you, Astrid. How would she know yet if she likes you or not?”

Astrid didn’t bother bestowing Hiccup’s gentle quip with a response and instead peered around the arena, stepping closer to Toothless in her anxiety, the black dragon warbling affectionately as if trying to assure her that he wouldn’t let any harm come to her.

It made her feel better and considered whether Toothless could sense her anxiety like Hiccup had said or she was simply reading between non-existent lines. She called out again, still afraid Hiccup was going to disappear.

“Should I stay here?” 

“You can. I’ll bring her to you.”

Astrid swallowed and nodded, suddenly aware she was nodding to no one when she couldn’t see Hiccup, and continued peering into the darkened chamber, listening to Hiccup as he hummed happily.

“Hey there, girl. Yeah, yeah, it’s me again.”

Astrid continued watching the entrance, her anxiousness using her diaphragm as a jump rope, and began to chew on her lip when it felt like Hiccup was taking far too long. The wind whirled around her ears, diving into the chasm of the arena before floating back up into the sky, and Astrid dared to breathe again when she heard his footsteps draw close to the entrance again, the sound of something much larger moving at an even pace with Hiccup.

Astrid continued attempting to peer into the gloom when Hiccup first emerged, walking backwards, before gasping-out of excitement or fear she didn’t know-when it became apparent his hand was resting gently on the nose of a Deadly Nadder as he led the dragon from the chamber, humming sweet-nothings to the beast as they emerged.

Astrid blinked a few times and let her eyes wander the majesty of the Nadder. Lined with blue scales, the hue of the dragon was soft and beautiful as it fed into the ombre of yellow that decorated her horns and tail spikes. Her skin was a dull burgundy beneath her scales, deepening into a violet as it bled into her wings, elegant splats of blue and yellow decorating their surface, and Astrid cocked her a head a little, struck with a sense of odd familiarity.

Hiccup’s hand continued to rest of the Nadder’s nose as the dragon breathed calmly, looking up at him with loving eyes when he brought his other hand under her chin and smiled down. Astrid, caught up in her own thoughts, twitched when Toothless called out playfully, the Nadder flapping her wings back at him as Hiccup removed his hand.

Astrid raked her eyes over the length of the Nadder some more, the feeling of having seen this dragon before still poking at her consciousness, before Hiccup smiled at her.

“So this Deadly Nadder is actually quite small for her species,” he elucidated, stepping to the side so Toothless and the Nadder could chatter away at each other, both of them flapping their wings and rubbing their noses together, “but her personality reminds me a lot of yours.”

“Why is she so small?”

Hiccup moved away from the dragons to stand at Astrid’s side, crossing his arms as he turned to watch the dragons play.

“She’s actually one of our rescues. Typically, we free dragons and let them fly to their own typical routes, but this-I should clarify we typically allow them to fly free because their instincts will direct them to their necessary habitat. Every class typically mates, hibernates, and such at different types and in different habitats and we wouldn’t want to meddle with the delicate balance.”

Hiccup looked at Astrid as he spoke and she nodded in understanding, a thought tingling the back of her mind to just get to the _point_.

“However, this Nadder came to live here because we went to set her free off a Hunter ship near Hergith and found her so malnourished and weak she couldn’t fly on her own. In all honesty, had we been a day later, I fear we would’ve found her dead. So we ended up carrying her in her cage all the way back here where we nursed her back to health. Now some of our rescues are revitalized and take to the air as soon as they can, but this girl was one of the few that chose to stay. However, because she was so malnourished in her adolescent years, she missed several growing targets. As such, she is smaller but stronger than them all.”

Astrid admired the elegant Nadder some more and inwardly huffed in annoyance when the cyan and yellows sparked at her memory again before her eyes widened in horror when the Nadder looked straight at her, lifted her feet one at a time, and cocked her head to look at Astrid with each eye separately.

The memory, like a wave propelling her body against an unrelenting cliffside until every bone in her body shattered, overwhelmed her as she relived the moment-just a fraction of her existence-of catching this Nadder. With little success, this Nadder, her hide already loose from a lack of nutrients, had fallen prey to the Hunters and had cried out so pitifully to Astrid, begging for help from Astrid’s soul while Astrid shuffled quickly by, her guilt consuming her more than her compassion for the dragon as trapped as she was.

Astrid remembered the scene with such clarity, the midday sun shining down on her and the dragon, when the scenario had driven her to a self reflection as she paused to consider how heartbroken she would be if she, screaming and banging against an isolating cage, was forced to watch the one person who could save her shuffle pathetically by. The dragon’s cry had echoed around the dome of Astrid’s skull long after they had transported the Nadder from Viggo’s ship to Fwendlin’s ship for sale, yet here she stood only a few feet from Astrid.

Oblivious to Astrid’s horror, her mind gasping for breath amidst the onslaught of waves-regret, guilt, relief, shame-that cascaded over her head and surged down her throat, Hiccup continued with a gentle smile and still crossed arms.

“This girl has, much as I suspect you have, felt the hardships of the world and yet proven herself a warrior in the face of it. I think you two would really get along.”

Hiccup’s voice reached down and gripped Astrid’s arm, yanking her above the waves to gain a much needed breath, and she looked at him dazedly as he reached a hand out to her, stepping closer to the two dragons again and beckoning her forward.

Still stunned from the memory, Astrid thought little of her actions as her body simply obeyed the command and took his hand, quivering as she moved closer. The Nadder continued to lift her feet as Hiccup led Astrid closer before Hiccup slid gracefully behind her, his chest against her back as he spoke gently.

“Now there’s no need to fear her. She’s a warrior, but she’s not aggressive.”

Astrid looked frantically over her shoulder at Hiccup when he remained behind her and lifted her elbow to extend to the dragon, jerking her hand back to herself.

“What are you doing?!”

In her fear, her voice became a harsh hiss, certain the last thing the Nadder would want was for Astrid to touch her, but Hiccup just chuckled and lifted her elbow again, encouraging Astrid to extend her hand.

“There’s nothing to fear,” reiterated Hiccup again, and Astrid let him guide her hand, her fingers trembling as she looked back in front of her, the Nadder having noticed her and taken a step closer, sniffing.

Gripped in a mixture of serenity and panic, Astrid’s body froze into place, her feet tingling with a sensation similar to being caught in a vacuum of mud, and her lips trembled.

“Hiccup, maybe this isn’t a good idea,” she breathed, feeling the sensation that she was going to cry when the Nadder took another tentative step forward, but Hiccup’s body remained stable behind hers as his voice spoke gently over her shoulder.

The thought crossed her mind it was a distinctly familiar scene, but quickly evaporated as her mind chugged forward with more thoughts about how close the Nadder was drawing near to her.

“You’re doing fine, Astrid, but try and relax. Your hand is outstretched gently...now let _her_ come to _you_.”

“Oh my gods. Oh my gods.”

Her mind chugged in a circular fashion, the best words she could slip from her tongue being ‘oh my gods’, as her hand trembled out in front of her and the Nadder sniffed at it.

Astrid was certain the dragon was about to bite her hand clean off. Astrid would certainly bite the hand off someone who had abandoned her to the torture of a rusty cage, choosing their own selfish security over her captivity, but she didn’t dare tell Hiccup that. That was just asking to be exposed before she had even so much as left an indent on Hiccup.

So she just stupidly trembled and gasped, waiting for the pain of serrated teeth to dig into her flesh and bone.

“Hey, I’ve got you. I’ve _always_ got you. If I feared her making a move that may hurt you, I would handle it, but she’s just getting used to you,” breathed Hiccup, his cheek against her hair, and Astrid shuffled her feet backwards when the Nadder took another step forward but made no significant movement, instead just pressing close against Hiccup’s chest, “She’s tentative because she can sense your fear.”

“I can’t just stop being scared, Hiccup,” hissed Astrid sharply, tossing a furrowed scowl over her shoulder, but Hiccup only laughed, his breath warm on her neck as she pressed tighter to him some more, her arm starting to hurt from how long it had been projected in front of her.

Toothless chittered abruptly, calling out to reassure the Nadder of Astrid, and the sudden intrusion across the silence made Astrid clamp her eyes shut, her cheeks tightening upwards when she was certain the searing pain of teeth wrangling her skin was to descend on her like a curse from the gods. Instead, her eyes flew open and her mouth dropped open when, instead of searing pain, she only felt a scaly sensation against her fingertips and observed the Nadder with her nose pressed against Astrid’s hand. Astrid scanned the Nadder, her blue and yellow hues growing more beautiful in close proximity, and ran an amazed gaze over the Nadder’s delicately closed eyes before settling on where her hand rested.

The Nadder was cold to touch, her scales dry, and Astrid was amazed at how _small_ her hand was in comparison to the majestic creature that pressed up against her. Astrid released a single giggle, her heart relieved she still had a hand to utilize and thrilled that she was touching a _dragon_ , when the Nadder began to purr against her, the sound a deep rumble that Astrid could feel as much as she could hear. 

“There you go.”

“She’s touching me. She’s actually touching me,” voiced Astrid delicately, hesitant in case she should spook the gentle creature, and mentally noted she had stated something rather obvious but elected to not care when the Nadder was so happy beneath her warm hand. Hiccup only grinned and moved out from behind her to stand to the side, running a hand through his hair.

“What do you think of her?”

Astrid, still quivering, dared to bring up her second hand, moving slowly as she rested it beneath the Nadder’s chin, mimicking the action Hiccup had performed earlier and giving the Nadder a tender scratch, the scales beneath her chin much smaller and less rugged than that on her nose.

“She’s beautiful,” hummed Astrid, peering at the Nadder’s collapsed wings.

“Another thing the two of you have in common.”

Tilting her head, Astrid shot a glance at Hiccup, his blatant compliment having caught her off guard when she had begun to think him impenetrable, and parted her mouth gently as she considered a response, but Hiccup only flushed and continued steadily.

“So the first lesson is relationship which, if you think you want this dragon to be under your care, you’ve already started developing.” Astrid settled her gaze on the Nadder again when it slid past her hand to nuzzle happily at her chest, hopping on each of its feet again. “The second is communication. Try talking to her.”

“Talking to her?”

“Yeah. I talk to Toothless lots in a day,” chuckled Hiccup, uncrossing his arms to rest his hands on his knees, grinning at Toothless, “Isn’t that right, bud?”

Toothless lifted his head cheerily, bounding over to Hiccup and gently nuzzling his nose against Hiccup’s, Hiccup swirling a design with his finger across the top of Toothless head as he stood up straight and beamed at Astrid again.

“What do I say?”

“What would you say to a friend? Remember, you are less this Nadder’s master and more her friend, her caretaker.”

Astrid looked at the Nadder thoughtfully, the dragon cocking her head curiously when she sensed Astrid’s hesitancy, and Astrid mumbled awkwardly when Hiccup continued watching her.

“Uh...hello. How are you?”

Astrid looked to Hiccup doubtfully, her eyes a wave of uncertainty and discomfort, but he smiled and nodded encouragingly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her when he twirled his hand to guide her forward. However, when the Nadder squawked in reply, as if she really understood, Astrid couldn’t help but grin, encouraged to pet the dragon some more.

“I’m uh really thrilled to meet you, girl. You’re so pretty.”

Astrid sucked in an audible gasp, retracting her arms back into herself in discomfort, when the Nadder closed her eyes, released a cheery hoot, and bounded in a tight circle around Astrid playfully before whining and squatting down, making herself as small as she could-tucking in her wings and neck-when she observed Astrid’s fear.

“Sorry, girl,” murmured Astrid timidly, stretching out a tentative hand and letting the dragon press its nose against her again, “I’m still new to this. I don’t mean to be so jumpy.”

Astrid let her gaze flicker back to Hiccup, uncertain whether she was doing as well as his earlier grin had implied, and found his face just as bright as it had been earlier, his eyes gazing at her with pride and his mouth twitching as he beamed, his one hand resting on his waist and the other on Toothless’ sleepy head as he reassured her again.

“You’re doing fine. Everyone is tentative around their dragon the first time around, much as you would another human. It’s very rare you meet someone who would bear their whole soul to you on the first meeting. It comes with time.”

The Nadder lunged upward again, cheery once more as she hopped away from Astrid-her claws scraping on the stone-and bounded toward Hiccup to hide behind the slender boy, her spines and wings still evident from behind Hiccup, before peeking her head out to the left of him and cooing before promptly hiding again.

“And _this_ scenario brings me to lesson three,” elucidated Hiccup, smiling when the Nadder poked her head out to the opposite side of Hiccup with another coo and subsequently hiding once more, “So if lesson two is communication and lesson three is the other half of communication, what do you think lesson three is?”

Astrid scrunched her face and cocked her head, unsure what he was asking of her, and Hiccup scratched at his hair above his ear as he tried again.

“So in order to umm uh-how do I-oh! Umm so when you communicate with someone you are giving something to them, right?” Astrid nodded slowly and Hiccup waved his hands in front of himself as he spoke, the Nadder poking her head out and retracting once more. “But what is the-uh-opposite of giving?”

“Receiving?”

“Exactly. So while you talk to your dragon-you _give_ to your dragon-you also have to…”

Hiccup dragged out the word, waving his hands in a cyclical motion in the attempt to get Astrid to finish for him and she shrugged as she murmured.

“Listen?”

“Very well done! Dragons are much brighter than you believe them to be. So, in ‘listening’ to your dragon, what is she communicating right now?”

Her spines vibrating a little, the Nadder stuck her head out to Hiccup’s left, gave the same coo, and promptly sucked her head back behind Hiccup.

“She’s scared of me?”

Hiccup chuckled, tipping his head back, and Astrid frowned, annoyed that all three of them-Hiccup, Toothless, and the Nadder-all seemed to be clustered against her.

“Astrid, your own harsh criticism of yourself is impacting an accurate evaluation.”

“Talk in some more big words, Sir Hotshot,” grumbled Astrid moodily, crossing her arms, and Hiccup raised his hands apologetically.

“Fair enough, but you think you’re not doing well and you’re projecting that onto your dragon. Your own self-doubt is making you think your dragon is reacting negatively to you. So try again.”

Astrid sighed, tightening her arms across her chest, and watched as the Nadder poked her head out once more, looking directly at Astrid, and retracted again, leaving Astrid with only Hiccup’s serene eyes staring at her expectantly.

“I don’t know,” she grumbled hastily, looking down at her shoes in her anger and shame, shuffling her feet until they were pigeon-toed, but Hiccup answered tenderly.

“Hey, it’s okay to not know. There were lots of things-are still things-I don’t know about Toothless. Your Nadder is trying to _play_ with you.”

“Play?”questioned Astrid, both her eyes and voice raising as she looked up at him in her surprise, and Hiccup nodded happily, the Nadder changing her repetitive pattern to poke her head above Hiccup’s, hanging her chin over Hiccup’s head and cooing again before ducking down behind Hiccup.

“ _She likes you_ , Astrid. And she’s trying to show you that she likes you by playing peek-a-boo with you.”

Running her eyes across the Nadder when the dragon peeked around Hiccup again, Astrid couldn’t refrain from giggling before opening her mouth in contentment when the Nadder clamped her eyes shut, bobbed her head up and down, and warbled a snicker.

“What was that?” asked Hiccup, turning his head to smirk at the Nadder.

“A laugh?”

“That’s right! Nadder’s instinctually imitate. They learn _everything_ -hunting, flying, migrating-by watching their mother do it and imitating. Similarly, if you laugh, she laughs. If you’re sad, she’ll take on your sorrow.”

Astrid watched happily as the Nadder hopped out from behind Hiccup, looking at him and flapping her wings before Hiccup began playing with her, covering his eyes with his hands before revealing them once more, the Nadder hopping and squeaking in fake alarm to Hiccup’s amusement. Hiccup laughed, placing a hand on his stomach, and Astrid flushed at the sight of him, so naturally in his element, when she felt a surge of affection rumble from her stomach at how _attractive_ he managed to look when doing the things he loved.

Toothless whined, slipping against Hiccup’s hip, and Hiccup stuck his lip out and leaned down, cupping each side of Toothless’s head and resting his nose on Toothless’.

“Aww, I’m sorry, bud. Did you think I had forgotten about you?”

Toothless stuck his tongue out and hopped from foot to foot happily again as Hiccup stood up and smiled at Astrid, putting his hands on his hips and circling around her, both dragons following behind him.

“Alright, can you give me lesson one to three?”

“Lesson one is relationship. It’s important because I’m not controlling my dragon, rather it's a give and take. Lesson two is communication. It’s important because we are a team and I need to respect what my dragon is communicating. Lesson three is listening. It’s important because it allows me to know what my dragon is thinking.”

“Very well done. I’m thoroughly impressed. That brings me to lesson four-a much more practical lesson than the others-which is simply accepting the responsibility that comes with riding a dragon.”

Astrid whisked her eyes from Hiccup back onto the carefree Nadder, jokingly swinging her tail-the spines smooth against its length-in front of Toothless, the darker dragon batting at it with his paw.

“This dragon has been more ill-treated than any dragon should have to experience in a lifetime,” mumbled Hiccup, smiling sadly when the Nadder noticed Hiccup’s gaze and nuzzled into his hair affectionately, “While being a Rider comes with its perks, it also comes with a level of responsibility. That means keeping your dragon hygienic, cleaning her stable stall when necessary, making sure she’s eating a well-balanced meal and drinking enough water. But most importantly...it means _love_.”

Hiccup grinned when Toothless slunk over to him to tuck his head under Hiccup’s arm, running the length of his body against Hiccup’s legs as he curled his lithe body around Hiccup. 

“If you earn a dragon’s loyalty, there is nothing that dragon won’t do for you. Being their Rider means taking on the responsibility to be their caretaker through a lifetime bond because, while it's a relationship built on friendship and equality, your dragon will still depend on you as a caretaker. Do you take on the consequences-good and bad-and the responsibilities that come with forming a relationship with this dragon?”

Astrid breathed in, taking a moment to allow Hiccup’s question steep in the waters of her soul, questioning what she could say.

Having come so far in Hiccup’s lessons already, she didn’t want to declare it all for naught. Diverging in a perpendicular trajectory from the practicality of lessons, Astrid feared the state of her heart when she felt it bounding against its seams at the sight of the Nadder. Astrid had never seen a creature of such majesty and beauty begin to _play_ with her; the Nadder was a captivating, gentle, ardent creature and yet still emanated with a power as feral as the sea and a strength of will that matched Astrid’s own. Astrid couldn’t help it-even with her guard up-when the Nadder had inexplicably ‘peek-a-boo’ed her way into Astrid’s unsuspecting heart, curling tightly into the hardened void that Astrid’s heart had become and sparking it with a burst of transparent color-with _love_.

Yet Astrid wasn’t neither ignorant nor a fool. Returning to the practicality of the way her world spun-and in a way she couldn’t elucidate to Hiccup-Astrid wouldn’t _be here_ forever, no matter the number of times she dared toy with the concept of it as she lay in the all-consuming comfort of Hiccup’s bed, waiting for sleep to carry her into the void.

Astrid repressed the shudder that threatened to slither up her spine and burst through the top of her head at the thought-the certainty-that the sun would inevitably rise on the day where Viggo would loom maliciously over Hiccup’s lifeless body, just as Viggo had promised, and Astrid would return to her caged life on the sea, nothing but water encompassing her as she fell into step of performing whatever Viggo declared the target of the day. Hiccup would fade with the shifting sands of time until his present melted into history, his history buried by legend, and his legend stained by myth, her life no longer affiliated with his.

Additionally, Astrid couldn’t disguise a dragon as a stow away. In such a case, would Astrid be forced to leave her dragon on the Edge, hoping the Nadder would roam the hills of the Edge contentedly until she was faced with Vanaheim?

Such thinking proved a solution until Astrid paired it alongside the fact that Hiccup had implied that a lifelong bond would be formed between human and dragon. Would Astrid abandon the Nadder, who had previously thought Astrid to be present as long as each of them should live, to such loneliness? On the opposite side of the trading token, would Astrid dare risk letting the dragon that had already claimed its territory in Astrid’s fortified heart anywhere near men the likes of Ryker?

Astrid eyed the light-footed Nadder once more when the dragon abandoned nuzzling Hiccup’s hair to sprint a lap around the arena before pausing and shuffling closer to Astrid in maternal concern. A steady stream of warm air whistled from the Nadder’s nostrils as she nudged Astrid’s limp hand-her scales warmed by the morning sun-the Nadder’s eyes squinting and bulging in replication of the depths of Astrid’s thoughts, much as Hiccup had stated.

Astrid gazed down at the beautiful creature, admiring each scale, the slits of the Nadder’s eyes tender, and the way her cranial spines rose and fell, and smiled delicately, placing a gentle hand on the mustard tinged horn that donned the Nadder’s nose as she decided.

“I accept.”

Hiccup beamed, the Nadder chirping out joyfully as if she understood the implications of Astrid’s words, and Astrid couldn’t suppress her grin as she hopped and giggled, throwing her arms lovingly around the Nadder’s head, the dragon closing her eyes and purring again.

It wasn’t practical, Astrid knew that much, but the Nadder had budded a flower of warmth and affection in the previously uninhabitable confines of Astrid’s soul.

Astrid had stared into the Nadder’s eyes and been astonished when she found a reflection of her own soul in the gentle’s dragon’s eyes. Hurt, scarred, _abandoned_ , both Astrid and the Nadder had been thrown carelessly into a cage as their tormentors waited- _encouraged_ -them to die...and they had both made it, stepping free of their prison a greater warrior than they had ever been.

Astrid looked down into _her dragon’s eyes_ and found no criticisms of what Astrid had done to make it to that moment. Her dragon lacked understanding of the list-as lengthy as it was-of things Astrid had done to land herself in that arena, underneath that exact sun, and yet she loved Astrid wholly and completely, regardless of fault.

And Astrid found that she loved her dragon the same.

“Congratulations, Astrid. You’ve just completed the first section of dragon riding and have formed a bond with your dragon. You’ve chosen her and she’s chosen you,” hummed Hiccup happily, Astrid opening her eyes and pulling her arms off the Nadder, beaming when the Nadder stood erect and hooted happily to the clouds.

“We’re gonna be best friends, aren’t we, girl?”

Astrid sang enthusiastically to her dragon, nodding her head emphatically, and the Nadder imitated Astrid’s movements, bobbing her head up and down with Astrid and lifting a singular foot.

“Have you given any consideration to a name?” questioned Hiccup, moving closer to Astrid and her dragon before laughing and raising his hands apologetically when the Nadder shoved her head between Hiccup and Astrid, curving around Astrid protectively, “Look at that. She’s already laying claim to you.”

Astrid giggled and patted the Nadder’s head, the dragon easing her head away from Hiccup and chirping before looking down at Hiccup and Astrid and cocking her head in interest. 

“I have to name her?”

“Of course! Unless you just wanted to call her a Nadder all the time.”

“No, no,” hummed Astrid thoughtfully, covering her eyes with her hand to peer up at the dragon and stretching a hand up to rest on the Nadder’s smooth chin, “I’ll think of something.”

“Admit it, you got Loki’d _so bad_!”

Both Astrid and Hiccup swept their attention to the entrance of the arena when Tuffnut’s voice echoed around them, the Nadder timidly hunkering her head down close to Astrid again, clearly still hesitant around people, and Astrid reassuringly stroked the Nadder’s head, humming tenderly.

“I was not _Loki’d,_ dumbass,” grumbled Snotlout, stalking further into the expanse of the arena with a downward scowl plastered on his face that would rival the irritation expressed by the gods, “I was walking and I just- like-I just was-like I _pretended_ to be scared to spare you guys feeling like absolute wastes of flesh.”

“You were so totally Loki’d,” called Ruffnut confidently, crossing her arms and nodding assuredly and Snotlout gave no rebuttal, instead continuing to grumble incoherently to himself, as Tuffnut cried out cheerily, pointing.

“Hey! It’s that dragon!”

Ruffnut ran her eyes along the invisible trajectory formed by Tuffnut’s finger fixated on the timid Nadder and grinned, putting her hands on her hips and leaning her weight onto one foot.

“Oh yeah!”

“And what dragon would that be?” asked Hiccup, Astrid frowning and moving her arms protectively around her dragon’s head, but Tuffnut just waved his hands in front of him flippantly, two fish out of water attached to his arms, and trilled his lips.

“Do you remember that _huge_ storm we had like maybe three months ago?” began Tuffnut, grinning, and Hiccup nodded in response, “Well, our-as in mine sister and I-job was to try and wrangle all the loosey goosey dragons! Anyway, long story short that may or may not have involved gelatinous mutton cubes, we were flying back and that little guy-”

“Girl,” interrupted Astrid hastily, her arms still around the Nadder protectively and her eyes still fixated in a frown.

“-was flying _right_ into the eye of the storm. Now you can imagine Ruff and I’s faces-in case you can’t they were a mix of ‘whoaaa’ and ‘what a badass bitch’ and ‘sayonara, psycho’-”

“Okay, Tuff, I think we get it,” drawled Hiccup, raising a hand to pause the way Tuffnut was manipulating his face to display each singular reaction, “Can you go on with the story?”

“Oh! I didn’t think anyone was listening. You usually aren’t,” admitted Tuffnut slowly before he released an uncontrollable cackle and lifted his helmet, scratching at his head, “Where was I?”

“Our badass bitch was flying into the eye of the storm,” encouraged Ruffnut, nodding and protruding her lip, and Tuffnut brightened once more, beginning again.

“Oh, yeah! Well, at least, that’s what we thought, but turns out Lil Blue here was actually rescuing a Terrible Terror from a tree!”

“I thought it was supposed to be _your job_ to ‘wrangle the loosey goosey dragons’?” interrupted Snotlout rudely, clearly skeptical as he raised an eyebrow and leaned casually against the weapon’s display.

“Some get missed!” defended Ruffnut passionately, raising her arm to point a stiff and red-tinged finger at Snotlout with a displeased glower, “So you just shut your mouth, Loki’d Boy!”

“ _Hey!_ ” Snotlout’s passionate scream echoed around the arena, everyone falling silent. The Nadder hid behind Astrid fearfully and Toothless raised an interested head as Ruffnut’s eyes widened in alarm and panic-Tuffnut stepping out of the way passively-while Hiccup shifted his glances between the two Riders, uncertain if he should be attempting to restrain Snotlout, before Snotlout spoke again, his voice less aggressive than before. “That’s Loki’d _Man_ to you!”

“Oh for the love of Thor-”grumbled Hiccup, his stomach a cauldron of bubbling annoyance peppered with relief when the only thing that seemed to anger Snotlout was the idea of being considered a ‘boy’.

“I think I have a name,” hummed Astrid, smiling at Hiccup when he strolled toward her, scratching the sensitive flesh beneath the Nadder’s chin, “Stormfly....I think I’ll call her Stormfly.”

“Hey, that’s because of me, right? Right?” exclaimed Tuffnut, hopping up and down a few paces behind Hiccup and waving his hand frantically in search of recognition.

“I think that’s a perfect name,” encouraged Hiccup, smiling, and Astrid tossed a teasing glance to him, turning away from Stormfly to face Hiccup directly, hands on her hips.

“Good, because that’s her name whether you like it or not.”

Hiccup smirked, clearly amused by her disinterest in his opinion, as Fishlegs and Meatlug returned, landing heavily on the stone of the arena.

“Are you guys having another meeting without me because-Astrid, is this your dragon? Oh, _Hiccup_ , they’re made for each other! How did you know this would be the perfect rescue for Astrid?”

“I don’t uh-I don’t know,” stammered Hiccup, furrowing his brow as he considered the question, “I guess I just _knew_. Seemed to jump off the page.”

“Everyone hold onto your helmets,” drawled Snotlout, scowling as he interrupted the conversation, “It’s the Nerd Herd in their natural habitat. Who knows? Maybe they’ll get their nonexistent female friends all hot and bothered by playing a riveting game of chess.”

“For your information, chess actually _does_ prove itself to be a riveting game when played with an opponent of skill such as Hiccup,” argued Fishlegs haughtily in his certainty that it was _his job_ to defend Hiccup’s honor and Fishlegs crossed his arms as Astrid laced her chilled hand in Hiccup’s and led him a small distance apart from the other Riders to smile gracefully up at him, keeping her hand purposefully in his.

“I want to say thank you-again-for umm teaching me and showing me Stormfly,” hummed Astrid sensually, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with her one hand while she stroked the inside of Hiccup’s hand with her other, her finger whispering up and down the length of his palm, “I uh well I love her and I loved being with...you.”

Astrid shone her gaze up at Hiccup through her eyelashes, certain she had positioned him right where she wanted him...and watched in horror as he barrel-rolled left.

“A-haha, nice one,” he quipped insincerely, tipping his head back as if she’d managed to make a funny joke, “Was it the twins who told you to use that one? Or was it Snotlout?”

“What?” asked Astrid dumbfoundedly, increasingly confused how he had failed to acknowledge the way she _blatantly_ shared that she loved being with him-whatever that implied to him-and she blinked, her eyebrows squiggles of ignorance and shock. 

“The whole ‘I enjoyed spending time with you’ class act,” elucidated Hiccup, his mouth still curved upwards as he brought his chin back down and gazed at her before his amusement bled into a confusion that consumed his face, “which was a...joke...from the twins…?”

Astrid opened her mouth, preparing to give a rather _stern_ rebuke that she meant it-every word of it-and that if he pushed her any closer to frustration he’d see a side of Astrid he wished he’d hadn’t, but could only growl incoherently when they were promptly interrupted before she could utter a word.

“Uhhh what are you guys doing…?”

Hiccup tossed an alarmed glance over his shoulder when Snotlout called out to them and practically _threw_ Astrid’s hand from his as if it contained the same heat as a migrating Fireworm, his laugh strained and his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck in his discomfort.

All eyes had come to rest on them. Snotlout’s face swirls of interspersed anger and disgust, he stared at them with screwed lips and hands clasped tightly on his hips as a father might scorn a beau who failed to return his daughter at the time clearly specified. The twins were less scorned and more intrigued, curious as to the scene unfolding before them, Tuffnut’s jaw slack while Ruffnut frowned as if impressed. Meanwhile, Fishlegs looked as uncomfortable as he had earlier, the sun now indicating it was approximately noon, and just flushed and flickered his gaze undecidedly between wanting to watch Hiccup and Astrid’s every move and wanting to keep his eyes fixated on the ground at his feet, consumed by a certainty he was intruding on the intimacy fluttering between Hiccup and Astrid.

Astrid spurred her tongue into motion, eager to speak in her assurance that if she let Hiccup do the talking she’d lose her opportunity.

“Nothing, but we’re a little busy so-”

Astrid failed to finish her rushed statement when an exhausted Windshear landed-perhaps more accurately, _collapsed_ -in the arena and Heather lunged from the saddle, unsheathing her double-bladed axe and fixating it on each of them in turn, her face burning red with emotion and her eyes churning with visions of revenge.

“Alright, which ones of you _unbathed rodents_ did it?!”

“Whew, someone’s mad,” whistled Snotlout carelessly, his face sinking into a ghostly paleness when Heather fixated her axe directly at him and glowered, his hands shooting up to either side of his head in surrender when her eyes continued to darken in icy, distant fury.

“Oh no, I’m not angry, Snotlout,” she trilled, her voice sickly sweet as she bordered on insanity, her head cocking to one side as she eyed Snotlout less as a Rider of her equal and more as prey to be devoured, “I’m absolutely _furious._ I’m _enraged_ . I’m _fuming_ . I’m _seething_.”

Recognizing Heather’s voice dropping from a melodious chirp to a deadly whisper and her axe drawing closer to Snotlout’s neck the more she spoke, Hiccup suddenly flurried in action in his fear Snotlout would say something increasingly idiotic and he’d have an uncontrollable _brawl_ on his hands in mere minutes.

“Okay, alright, _Heather!_ ” he rambled hurriedly, abandoning Astrid’s side-her hand shooting out to him as she released a pathetic whine in her frustration that she could never just get Hiccup _to stay still_ -he hopped across the arena to slip agilely between the blade of Heather’s axe and Snotlout’s impending doom, “Can you explain why you are furious, enraged, fuming, seething?”

Astrid quietly huffed a scorned laugh, internally teasing Hiccup of being such a _nerd_ , but Heather seemed to find no joy in the situation.

“Someone gave my Windshear tomatoes- _multiple tomatoes, Hiccup Haddock!_ -so I completed no training because Windshear was too busy shitting all over the fucking forest!”

“Agh, was the imagery necessary?” complained Hiccup, his lips pursed and his face scrunched in disgust while he dramatically clutched as his stomach and gagged, but Heather glowered, clearly still finding nothing about it should be taken lightly as she clenched her fist until her knuckles glew white.

“Look at her, Hiccup! She’s _exhausted_!”

Hiccup took a moment to peer over Heather’s trembling shoulder and really study Windshear’s demeanor, both Toothless and Stormfly having wandered over to the immobile Razorwhip and warbling compassionately, Toothless empathetically lying beside Windshear, his head resting protectively over the Razorwhip’s and Stormfly lying beside Toothless, cooing sadly. Hiccup raked his gaze over the large dragon, her muscles trembling with exertion, and his eyes drooped when Windshear could only moan tiredly, unable to even pull her wings into herself. Windshear-typically as lively as they came when practicing with her Rider-was void of anything, bled dry of any life, and Hiccup’s heart _did_ ache for the beast, so evidently suffering.

“Look, this wasn’t fucking funny, you fucking assholes!” shrieked Heather, her voice cascading across the arena and crashing against the far wall of the arena as tears steadily began to well in her eyes, her arm flying upwards to wipe them away before anyone saw her fear and sorrow.

“I’d like to begin by clarifying that I am _not_ saying I did it-because I want it on the record that I didn’t!-but the idea of Windshear uncontrollably shitting everywhere is _kinda_ funny…” mumbled Tuffnut thoughtfully, twiddling his thumbs around each other and Ruffnut clamped a hand over her mouth, unable to contain her snort of laughter.

“ _I’m gonna cut every single one of your fingers off!_ ” screamed Heather, her fury finally bubbling over the seams of her soul, and she lunged at them as they shrieked in fear, Tuffnut throwing himself behind Ruffnut to hide, but Hiccup gracefully wrapped his arms around Heather’s waist, his body fighting the pressure of her all-consuming rage as he lifted her up and carried her several paces away from the twins, her legs kicking outwards and her nails scraping along Hiccup’s back, several profanities spilling from her mouth as Tuffnut peeked out timidly from behind Ruffnut.

“Heather, stop! Just stop!” soothed Hiccup relentlessly, placing her feet back down in the ground and situating his hands firmly yet tenderly on both her shoulders, Heather wiping away a fresh onslaught of tears in her continued attempts to remain tough.

“It’s not fucking funny, Hiccup!” she screeched again, waving her arms directionlessly at the cowering twins, “It’s borderline fucking abuse! I thought she was going to _die_! She could hardly move and she kept calling out for help and I couldn’t do anything and-”

Unable to contain herself anymore, the murky waters of sorrow, terror, anger, and self-loathing poured from the broken vessel that was Heather’s heart; Heather melted into sobs she could neither control nor hide, their sounds echoing around the now silent arena, every Rider cast into empathy for Heather when the idea of their dragon-helpless, scared, cast into such a feeling of _aloneness_ -in the same position struck them into hallowed silence. And Hiccup, Astrid’s eyes fixated on him in utter wonder, bled compassion when he said nothing-understanding the uselessness that words typically had when a fellow human was consumed by such grief-and simply wrapped his arms around Heather and _held her_. As Heather quaked, her body wrecked by the relentlessness her own emotion was slamming against her, Hiccup simply remained a stable presence for an unstable soul, a steady reminder that Heather was not alone without negligating the emotions that poured from her heart. 

Astrid wondered at him. They were the same age, according to Viggo’s research, and yet somehow he breathed with wisdom that seemed to surpass any his equal. So she pondered how he seemed to know that Heather needed not elegant explanations nor meaningless niceties but rather an empathetic and compassionate soul that both understood her pain and aimed to heal it. Astrid was certain such a feat was not possible within her-the idea of holding someone in the attempts to ease their pain-yet Hiccup didn’t hesitate. He simply gave of himself, letting Heather take whatever strength she needed from him, without any purchase or expectation of reciprocation. It was a concept so foreign to Astrid she was hardly able to process the scene unravelling before her and simply stared as a child might admire a wooden figurine carved for them at birth.

Several minutes passed, the Riders enveloped in silence apart from Heather’s erratic sobs, before Hiccup pulled his cheek away from where it had been resting on Heather’s hair and cast his gaze over his shoulder, unimpressed as he finally broke the lifelessness the silence was ringing in their ears.

“While I’m not going to point fingers without sufficient evidence, Heather is right. This wasn’t just pranking or Loki-ing someone. It was cruelty to Windshear.”

“Hey, don’t look at me! I didn’t do it!” defended Snotlout hurriedly, cupping his hands over himself through his pants, “She already threatened to cut off my dick and, let’s be real, I wouldn’t want to torture the ladies but not giving them the part of Snot they most desire-”

“Stop,” growled Hiccup, shaking his head in his attempts to clear the idea from his head, “No one needs to know what part of the Snot is or is not being displayed to any poor soul. Additionally, I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“Well, it wasn’t us either!” added Tuffnut, only his frightened eyes visible over Ruffnut’s shoulder, his helmet crooked on his head, “We live by the expression ‘Loki the Rider but spare the glider!’”

Ruffnut nodded her head hurriedly in agreement, the bobbles of her hair shaking as she did so, and Fishlegs spoke up, bringing a hand up thoughtfully to his chin.

“Then I don’t understand. If none of us gave Windshear any tomatoes, then how did she get them?”

“Oh, I don’t know, _Fishface_ , how did she since you’re the only nerd with a veggie garden on the island?” accused Snotlout, leaning forward to glare purposefully at Fishlegs who stammered in fear.

“No, I-I would never! Hiccup, Heather, you have to believe that I would never wish harm on a creature as graceful and elegant and-”

“Alright,” interrupted Hiccup, closing his eyes and shaking his head back and forth to silence Fishlegs complimentary descriptions of Windshear as Heather pulled her tear-streaked face from Hiccup’s shoulder, a splotch of damp fabric left in her wake, and rubbed at her red nose, her eyes puffy and tired, “That’s enough blindly accusing each other. If everyone is being honest and didn’t purposefully feed Windshear tomatoes then we will have to assume that it was an accident that she managed to get her claws on some.” 

“Unless it was _Astrid_!” gasped Tuffnut abruptly, bounding out from behind Ruffnut to point accusingly at Astrid’s alarmed frame, her hands raised in surprise across her stomach as she looked at them with wide eyes, each of them staring back at her.

“Tuff, I said that was _enough_ blindly accusing people,” sighed Hiccup listlessly, looking down at Heather when she knelt by Windshear’s exhausted head and began to lovingly stroke it, “What we need to focus on now is how to get a net beneath Windshear so we can carry her to the stables. Then she can get water, rest, and steadily realign her digestive system. So Ruff, Tuff! You’re on net duty. Can you find one large enough to cradle Windshear so it won’t damage her wings?”

“Hey, you got it, Chiefty! _Barf! Belch!_ ”

Hopping into their individual saddles as soon as their clumsy Zippleback lumbered into the arena, Tuffnut gave a final salute while Ruffnut flashed a thumbs up, both taking off in search of a net fulfilling Hiccup’s description. Waving as they departed, Hiccup turned his attention to the next order invading his mind. 

“Fishlegs, I’m putting you in charge of research. I’ll take anything and everything you can find on a Razorwhip’s ideal diet, how to revitalize them when they're weak-I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“Already on it, Hiccup!” confirmed Fishlegs, shuffling to Meatlug’s side and smiling sympathetically at Heather, her hand still resting on her dragon’s silver horn, “We’ll get her back to health in no time, Heather, or my Meatlug isn’t my Meatlug.”

After giving Heather his final assurance, Fishlegs and Meatlug fluttered off in the direction of his hut in search of any documents he may have tucked away regarding the situation.

“Snotlout, when the twins get back I’m going to need your and Hookfang’s strength to get that net underneath Windshear’s stomach without having to force her to move or hurting her sensitive underbelly. In the meantime, I need you to fly to the stables, grab the large coil of rope hung on the back wall, and slice it into four equal amounts to attach to the net.”

“Consider it done,” assured Snotlout, speaking before Hiccup had even finished, his head nodding in his understanding before he directed a surprisingly gentle gaze to Heather, “I’m sorry Windshear is sick. The Nerd Herd will have her on her feet in no time.”

Sweeping his leg over Hookfang’s neck, Snotlout adjusted himself in the saddle before Hookfang shot off in the direction of the stables. Hiccup exhaled a sigh, his back relaxing slightly in the silence that blanketed the arena once more, before he turned around when Heather sniffled behind him.

“What should I do?” she asked bravely, her eyes remaining focussed on the shimmer of Windshear’s horn while Hiccup spoke gently to her.

“Stay with your dragon. She needs you, now more than ever.”

Astrid shuffled forward tentatively, uncertain what place she held in the hierarchy of duty but feeling uncomfortable standing and doing nothing, and Hiccup flashed a smile at her when she moved closer to him, his eyes more tired than she had catalogued them being earlier. 

“Would it be alright if Stormfly stays comfortable in her stall of the arena for now? Since she’s still new to commands, I just don’t want to be worrying about her while we tend to Windshear.”

Speaking before Astrid could, Hiccup looked expectantly at Astrid before she nodded and Hiccup tossed his gaze over to Stormfly, still perched near Windshear’s head and whistled, the tune getting the Nadder’s attention.

Having gained Stormfly’s attention, Hiccup slowly moved his hand in a flattened circular motion, giving Stormfly time to remember what the command meant, before the Nadder chirped in recognition, stood, and hopped happily behind him when she understood the command meant she was to follow.

Thrilled at her obedience, Hiccup gave her a loving scratch as he led her back into her stall, checking she had more than enough food and water before closing the large doors and turning to address Astrid once more.

“Ideally, we can get her into her stall in the stables soon enough but-”

“I totally get it,” interrupted Astrid calmly, nodding her head, “Shit happens.”

Hiccup nodded, his cheeks flushing a little red as he stretched a shaky hand out until his finger brushed the side of her hand, the gesture hesitant as if he were asking her permission, before he brought his hand back embarrassedly to himself when the twins and Snotlout both landed in the arena, each with the supplies they had been sent for.

 _I can work with that_ , praised Astrid internally, her heart rate faster than she remembered it being earlier, as Hiccup moved over to Snotlout stretching the rope out to slice it in pieces.

The stables were colder than the Clubhouse. While the Clubhouse sang with the warmth of the furnace glow, the stables had only a few torches keeping it lit and the impressiveness of their warmth was equivalent to the number of times Snotlout kept his mouth shut in a day-or approximately zero.

However, Heather had hardly left Windshear’s side all day and they had all elected to have dinner and bonding hours in the stable that night for Heather and Windshear’s sake.

The familial dynamic between the Riders no longer caught Astrid off guard, however, the group effort to carry Windshear _and_ Heather-physically and emotionally-had.

While Heather held her dragon’s head, soothing the exhausted Razorwhip, the other Riders had carried all the supplies they would need to spend the night with her, unwilling to let her face the trials of her day alone.

Astrid pondered whether she had ever had someone like that. Someone unwilling to let her face life alone.

Yet what surprised Astrid most was how _nonchalant_ they all were about it. While they were unwilling to leave Heather to her obstacles alone, they also didn’t shove it down Heather’s throat. After departing from the arena to do their separate tasks, not a single Rider mentioned the incident again. Heather-depressed, afraid, defeated-was reminded that she didn’t walk the path alone and yet was neither forced to face her fear either. Instead, the twins described the scenery on either side of the path, Snotlout provided entertainment, Fishlegs provided a hand to hold, and Hiccup carried Heather when she was too weak to walk.

They were just _there_ . They were _present_ . They gave their all so Heather could simply _be carried_.

Astrid inhaled deeply, feeling her chest expand with air, and yawned, the torch positioned near her flickering as tiredly as she when she stood, stretching slightly.

“I was up early so I’m heading to bed,” she slurred lazily, flopping her arms at her side again, and the other Riders’ nodded their understanding.

“Have a good sleep,” hummed Heather, cradled in a blanket and snuggled-inconspicuously to the inattentive eye-into Fishlegs’ side and Fishlegs waved as Astrid smiled and sauntered out onto the flat platform of the stables.

The cold night encompassing her more thoroughly when she was exposed to the wind, Astrid couldn’t refrain from smiling when she overheard the twins murmuring behind her about: ‘who would win in a fight, a headless chicken or a legless yak?’

Astrid curved around the stables and glowered at how far Hiccup’s hut was from her current position; she knew the Edge was designed with the fact they all rode dragons in mind, but the blatant disrespect for her, stuck on two legs, was getting old fast. All the same, she’d never get there if she didn’t start so she placed one foot in front of the other and attempted to preoccupy her mind so the time passed.

Astrid threw her gaze down to the arena as she walked, it’s dome barely visible under the light of the quarter moon, and wondered whether Stormfly was warm and comfortable.

At the thought of Stormfly, Astrid couldn’t resist cracking a smile, her heart hopping with excitement at getting to spend her days with the cheerful dragon, before she looked up from where she had been gazing at her feet at the sound of a noise from the inside of the Clubhouse.

Stepping closer, Astrid peered at the light seeping through the open door as Hiccup stepped through it, laughing at a scorned Toothless who followed at his heel.

“Oh, come on, Toothless! You know you’re just _gwumpy_ because you were a little too chunky for that tree branch last night and so you broke it and fell.”

Astrid studied them in curiosity, taking mental notes at how effortlessly Hiccup and Toothless seemed to communicate with each other and cataloguing it for when she talked to Stormfly, and watched as Toothless used his head to butt Hiccup in the back, warbling offendedly while Hiccup laughed, looking down at the bitter dragon and leaning his hands on his knees.

“Awwww, is the chunky Night Fury pouting, hmm? Such a poor baby…”

Toothless grumbled several more wordless complaints, closing his eyes in his unintelligible lecture, before Hiccup stretched his arm out and flicked the dragon’s auricles, hopping playfully around Toothless, the dragon trying to suppress a playful grin and continue feigning annoyance as Hiccup threw several gentle punches at the dragon. Unable to suppress the playfulness rising in him, Toothless eventually conceded and broke into a gummy smile as he rested on his back paws to bat his paws back to Hiccup, patting the tufts of Hiccup’s voluminous hair as Hiccup gave a weighted charge, shoving ineffectively at Toothless’ stomach.

“Urgh...are you...feeling that...burn? Huh...Chunk?” grunted Hiccup, repeatedly throwing himself against Toothless, who just eyed him curiously, unwilling to budge before wrapping his arms around Hiccup’s lithe form, Hiccup squawking in shock, and rolling so that Hiccup was pressed against the wood, Toothless batting at Hiccup’s hair lovingly again.

“The fight is getting ugly,” commentated Hiccup, his words interspersed with chuckles as he alternated between blocking Toothless’ paw and batting at the dragon’s large head, “The dragon is relentless against the man! Who will wi- _owugh!_ ”

Hiccup cried out when Toothless rested his opposite paw on Hiccup’s stomach, crushing his internal organs as he curled in on himself from the jarring force, before Hiccup laughed when Toothless began licking the expanse of Hiccup’s face.

“Awwww yuck! You smell like fish and _yuck!_ ”

Astrid continued admiring them, a smile having consumed the landscape of her face, as Hiccup scrambled into a standing position, wiping his face off before deciding revenge was the best tactic and swung some more punches at the giggling dragon.

“Is the baby angry that he’s getting a little chunky?”

Toothless gurgled in mock offense and shoved his nose into Hiccup’s stomach, lifting Hiccup up as he squawked and slid down the length of Toothless body, eventually flopping uselessly onto his stomach against the platform.

Rolling over onto his back, Hiccup leaned onto his elbows and smirked as Toothless chuckled at Hiccup’s misfortune.

“Is that supposed to be a quip that at least you don’t lack any muscle tone in your body like me?” murmured Hiccup and Toothless bounded over, giving him another lick.

Afraid they’d catch her admiring them from a distance, Astrid dared to shuffle out from the shadows and Toothless abandoned Hiccup to dance his way over to Astrid, curving around her legs as Hiccup shook the saliva from his body to the ground.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were there. Sorry if we were blocking your path.”

Astrid shook her head at Hiccup’s apology and petted Toothless’s head before opening her mouth, the question that had been plaguing her since Hiccup had first emerged from the Clubhouse unwilling to be repressed anymore.

“Do you think I’ll be like that with my dragon-with Stormfly?”

The chemistry-the oneness-between Hiccup and Toothless remained unbeaten by any other Rider on the Edge, as far as Astrid had seen, and Astrid certainly wanted the same oneness with Stormfly; she just feared she’d never reach it and she wondered whether Hiccup, much as he had earlier in the day, would have an answer that might set some of her anxieties to rest.

“No.”

Astrid looked at Hiccup in alarm. Hiccup’s face remained kind and yet unblemished in his seriousness, and Astrid frowned.

 _While there is honesty, typically a trait I admire in a fellow human, there’s also tact_ , she internally commiserated, _and he could’ve fabricated the answer at least a tiny amount_.

Still frowning, Astrid watched as Hiccup chuckled and stepped closer to her.

“Sorry, I suppose that was perhaps too blunt.”

“You think?” grumbled Astrid, as scorned as Toothless had been moments prior, “I mean, I get that you’re the Dragon Master and all, but you didn’t have to be so harsh.

Shrugging her shoulder, Astrid looked down over the topography of the Edge as she complained, finding herself too flustered to look at him.

Hiccup just chuckled again.

“Let me explain. I said no and I meant no for a very specific reason that has nothing to do with either one of us being better than the other. I said no because every Rider and every dragon is different. You’ll have your own relationship with Stormfly that will be so much more special than anything I could have with Toothless. And that’s a good thing. So I said no because I don’t want you to expect something that won’t be uniquely yours. The relationship will come with time.”

“Well time sucks,” grumbled Astrid, uneasy when she felt time was the _last_ thing she had, but Hiccup simply puffed a laugh and pressed closer to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I know. I know.”

Astrid inhaled the crisp night air swirling around her and gazed up at the moon, half of it masked by clouds, before looking again at Hiccup when he stirred, sweeping his leg over Toothless’ body, the dragons shoulders rising and falling purposefully while Hiccup remained poised in the saddle.

“In the meantime, would the lady be interested in taking her first flight?”

Astrid shifted her gaze from the kind happiness that lined every inch of Hiccup’s face to where his hand was outstretched to her, its surface calloused and yet tender.

She didn’t know what to expect.

She had never ridden a dragon before, let alone a Night Fury, and her heart had broken into a sprint, the ending ribbon not even in sight. And yet, much as she did with Stormfly, Astrid dared to leap because Hiccup made her feel like even if she jumped, he’d still be there to catch her.

So she laced her cold hand in his warm one and let him lift her onto the saddle.

Perched there, tense as an unplucked string, Astrid felt Toothless’ muscles shift with focussed intensity beneath her weight as he prepared to take flight.

Hiccup turned his head to look at her over his shoulder and she sucked in an uneasy breath, holding it captive in her lungs. While she’d made several attempts, none had proven themselves a success to get _this_ close to him before and she found him captivating by moonlight, his skin pale and his lips curved into a smirk that defined his cheekbones while the depths of his eyes became more noticeable than ever before.

“You’re probably going to want to hold on,” he mused, and Astrid nodded as she lifted herself up and shimmied closer to him until her chest was pressed against his back so she could wrap her arms around his thin waist, feeling the way his abdomen tightened with muscle as if Hiccup needed to prepare for flight as much as Toothless needed to prepare himself. 

Hiccup leaned forward slightly while he adjusted his feet in their designated spots, locking his prosthetic into it’s place, and Astrid grew more comfortable the longer she rested on Toothless. Sparked by the thrill of being on a dragon, Astrid shifted her hips against Hiccup some more, Hiccup’s stomach tightening again, and rested her chin on his shoulder, loving the feeling of his hair softly tickling her cheek and neck.

“Alright, bud. Easy,” encouraged Hiccup, and Toothless bent his legs slightly, spread his wings, and took off in search of the moon.

Astrid could only suck in a gasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's my little Christmas present to all of you!  
> As always, I'd love to hear your comments because I love knowing that you guys love this story as much as I am falling more and more in love with it every day!  
> Otherwise, I hope you're all enjoying your holidays, in all the beautiful ways we separately choose to celebrate it! Additionally, my deepest condolences to any and all who are apart from family members or loved ones this holiday. I hope you know you are loved, even from afar.

**Author's Note:**

> So I am a sucker for words of affirmation so I'd love to hear what you thought and look forward to posting the next chapter!


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